Crimson beyond blood that flows
by SkyeMoor
Summary: Harry Potter decided to be just what his relatives called him. A criminal and a malcontent. Oh, and a freak, that too.
1. Chapter 1

As long as Harry had been alive, his relatives had hated him. Well, he was just getting to an age to think about fixing that problem.

Harry was seven, after all. Plenty big enough for real work.* Besides, he was already scruffy, and the street toughs that hung out at the local high school only liked to think they were mean.

Harry swaggered up to the group of five lanky juniors and seniors, and they looked back, amused. "What you doin' here kid?"

"How much will you give me for a view of her underpants?" Harry said, nodding at one of the Pretty Cheerleaders, currently in the school uniform.

"I'm in for half a quid." Said one of the boys (named Darrell).

"Me too." said Sammy.

"You figure you won't get caught, kid?" Richie said, smiling at him, "I'll give you a second quid if you'll do the blonde."

"Maybe tommorrow," Harry said, smiling. "I won't be blamed if I accidentally flip up one girl's skirt, but..."

The boys watched as the lithe, young boy ran off, and whistled appreciatively at the union jack pants that she wore. The girl blushed, but didn't seem too upset.

The next day, Harry showed up in a leather jacket, aping the older boys a bit.

"I think he fits in," Ritchie said, smiling.

"Hides the bruises better, too." Harry chipped in, not understanding when the other boys' faces darkened at that.

"Yeah, let's see if he can grab some fags from the druggist." Sammy said.

"Better send someone with him, don't want the pantser getting caught for a pack of fags."

/$$$$$$$$$$4/

By the time summer hit, Dudley and his friends mostly steered clear of Harry. Harry hadn't had to do any chores since he'd used thermite on the roses. That was burning for a while, and drew quite a crowd. He had marshmallows, and even with Aunt Petunia shrieking, he realized his reputation couldn't get any lower.

The Dursleys didn't mind, so long as he wasn't home except for sleeping and was quiet about it, like. He'd leave early - too early for the street ruffians to be about. Oh, but they'd have laughed at him. He'd run errands for the local druggist (the same one he often was given missions to 'steal' from), and they got along fine. Of course, that might be because part of his pay was the fags he 'stole'. The kindly old man didn't ask questions, and that was what Harry liked most about him.

/$$$$$$$$$$$$$$/

A year later, Dudley's friend Piers had gotten the bright idea to steal from the druggist and say it was Harry (who worked there, so it was plausible). Harry stood, shaking, and trying not to cry, as the druggist calmly ushered both boys into the back. "Now, I don't have no security camera." the druggist said, staring with those kind eyes at Harry, "And this boy says he saw you. What do you have to say?"

"I didn't do it! I wouldn't do it! You've been good to me, sir!" Harry said.

"That I have. Well, if you didn't do it, who did?" The druggist said, straightening up to his full height.

"He did, or his friends! My cousin's his friend, and he's never liked me sir. Always wants me in trouble." Harry said, succinctly.

"Yeah, well, I only got this one, for now," The druggist said, putting his eyes on Piers. "Harry, go call the bobbies."

Harry learned a valuable lesson that day, about trust and loyalty. Because, after Piers was gone, the druggist sat down with him, "I understand, you know. If you were hungry, or something, and needed to steal-" Those blue eyes looked at Harry's green, and said firmly, "You'd pay it back. I wouldn't turn you in. There's honesty, and then there's deception, and they fit together better than you think."

/$$$$$$$$$$$$$/

Todd smiled, a bit of a mean smile, and said, "Hey, you think the kid could learn to fight?"

"Yeah, I wager he could," Jesse smiled back, the two new juniors enjoying the flunkie they'd inherited. They'd look out for him, of course - wouldn't do to let the nine year old get hurt. That'd look bad.

"Here," Eddie said, passing over a switchblade.

"For me?" Harry asked, who'd been observing the backalley fights they had.

"Yeah, you can handle it. Besides, we may need backup." Todd said. Harry knew that was ridiculous, because their streets weren't nearly so precious as that any other gang would want them, but still... it felt good to be able to protect what's theirs.

/$$$$$$$$$$$$$$/

When he wasn't working, Harry spent some of his time in the library, and that's where he read about rabid creatures. So when he saw an owl bearing down on his house, in his suburban neighborhood, his throwing knife materialized in his hand. A single toss, and he'd made short work of the beast.

But was it his imagination that it was headed towards him?

[a/n: every story about Harry being a criminal seems to start with him running away. Here, he's just being one of the local malcontents. A sneak thief, a pickpocket, and a slip of a fighter.

Leave a review? Betcha can't guess what house he'll be in.]

*children can be put to work as young as age 3. don't judge the abused kid for working with what he's got.


	2. Oops?

Harry Potter picked up the owl, looking at its brown form with a bit of confusion. Surely if someone wanted to send a bomb, they'd use a dolphin, or a squirrel or a cat...* And, at any rate, he wasn't _that_ notorious. Nothing ticking. Harry paused, his attention caught by a red ribbon. it was wrapped around the owl's leg. Harry undid the ribbon, rolling off the brown butcher paper... no, that wasn't it. Not butcher paper at all. Harry picked up the "whatever it was", not reading it, just holding it towards the sky.

Parchment, he thought, smiling. That'd fetch a good price at any three balls.** He flipped it over, only just then noticing that someone had written on it.

Hang a jot.

They'd written to him. Hm. That put a different spin on things. They expected it to arrive, too - didn't send out a flock of owls to see which one arrived, or some silly nonsense like that. Someone, who trained owls, thought he was worth writing to. He brushed his hand across his leather jacket, rapidly totalling his life savings (never left at the Dursleys, no never again). Yeah, Harry figured he could pull off being some sort of toff gentleman if needed. At least by looks, if not by speech and mannerism. That'd take more work.

Harry hadn't touched the illegal animal market, but he knew _of_ it, and if trained owls were certainly not going to be as valuable as Siberian Tigers, he still figured he could make fifty quid off the exchange. And all he'd have to do is convince them that he was...

 _Better read the letter before polishing the plan, Harry..._ Harry read the signature next after his own good name. Always good to know who was talking to you. At this, Harry frowned. Who the hell was this joker? It seemed like he thought one person ought to have all the titles, not just one or two. That didn't sit well with Harry. Concentrations of power reminded him of his Uncle Vernon. Real world didn't like to work that way, anyway. Power needed balance, or well, Harry'd learned the hard way that Absolute Power was a bad idea.

Harry took out his switchblade, absently opening and closing it as he started in on the meat of the document.

An invitation to a School for Wizards and Witches? Harry wondered with some amusement which he'd be. Wizards were known to cast from the arcane schools of magic... while witches? Well, they were the devil's own, tradtionally. Harry rather thought that might fit himself, actually. Lucifer's own friend, Harry Potter, purveyor of pornography and master of a profitable gambling ring. Granted, these were both done under the unobservant auspices of his middle school - and the gambling actually did teach the smarter kids maths, and kept the math teachers better paid and happier.***

Harry couldn't see any way to possible respond to said letter. I mean, it wasn't like you just addressed a postal letter to Hogwarts, was it? Harry idly figured it wouldn't hurt. Harry pulled out a fag and slipped it behind his ear. He wouldn't ruin his wind by smoking, but he got tons of "street cred" from middle school wannabes just by looking like he might.

Harry supposed the post would simply send the letter back, so he headed towards the public library to find a decent desk. The Dursleys still had him sleeping in a cupboard, which he hadn't minded when he was younger and didn't know any better. Now, though, he was getting a bit big for the closet, and had trouble sleeping.

**The traditional symbol for a pawnbroker is three spheres. But any boy's going to use the word balls, because puns!

*Thank the CIA.

*** I know someone who actually did this.

[a/n: Do we want Dumbles to send Hagrid? If not, how does Harry get to the Wizarding World. He's not hitting london on the regular, you know!

Leave a review!]


	3. Stage tricks and Quackery

Harry had read and reread that letter, trying to figure out when they'd come. It was... slightly dangerous to be at the Dursleys. Not that Dudley could really hurt him - Harry knew how to fall, and he knew how to take a punch. But the bruises still owtched the day after. But Harry'd considered, and considered again, and figured that if He didn't know there was a thing called magic, then probably some other shmuck didn't know as well.

And that meant that the School had procedures for this sort of thing. And that probably meant an inperson visit, as if they'd meant to use the Royal Post, they'd have _used_ the Royal Post.

One week went by, and Harry started to wait, using his switchblade to whittle, or otherwise drowsing in the sun. He wasn't daft enough to stay inside - here he had a better view, and Dudley liked the video games. Harry'd even thieved him a new one, just to keep the vast bugger off his bak

Two weeks went by, and Harry started to figure. He'd started to work on a bit of sleight of hand. After all, it was a Magic School, wasn't it? Harry knew how to be a damn fine pickpocket, but Magic was more than that, wasn't it? Had a lot in common with petty thievery...

Harry wished he had bigger hands. It was hard to palm anything with hands as small as his were.

Weird that they'd delivered the message on an owl. According to his books, Magicians tended to use doves. Suppose doves were when you wanted to be flashy, hmm?

/#########/

The woman looked a sight for strange eyes as she came down the sidewalk. She was dressed all in black - in a dress that had long sleeves and a pointy, flopsy hat like Harry only saw around Halloween. Was she in a play? Harry froze, catching the three balls he'd been throwing - just for practice, as she turned up to his house.

Shite. Time to intercept.

Discarding the black balls he'd been juggling, Harry darted out of the begonias and towards... whomever that was.

"Excuse me? We don't take kindly to trespassers." Harry said this in the politest tone he had, because when you came wrapped in leather and with a spiked collar, you wanted to try not to startle the neighbors.

"Oh. I believe I was on the path for visitors, was I not?" The sharp brown eyes that stared at him looked like they were quite used to tomfoolery, and wouldn't be putting up with it for a second.

"The Dursleys don't believe in plays, or in people who insist on playing dressup in a right proper neighborhood like this one." Harry tried to keep his tone bright, but the piercing look those eyes turned on him made him frantically think he'd messed up.

In. Out. Harry breathed, calming himself.

"Oh, then I'm at the right house. Capital!" She said, "And who might you be, young man?"

"Me?" Harry said, "I'm Harry Potter, their nephew."

"Charmed." The dotty-and-sharp old woman said. "I need to speak to your relations."

"Good luck with that," Harry said, all the sarcasm sunk under his bright smile. If he smiled a bit too large, oh well.

[a/n: Petunia encounters the Professor. "I know who you are. I _remember_."]


	4. Weird Lady

The oddball knocked on the door, glaring at it sternly until it opened to reveal Dudley Dursley. "Are you the master of the house?" the crazy woman asked, disregarding Dudley's obvious facial youth to look at his enormous bulk.

"No, but I can get me mum for you." Dudley said, turning about to bellow, "MAAA! MAA!" Harry always thought he sounded like an ox when he did that. Bloody big as one too.

Aunt Petunia came to the door, paling a moment, before she remembered her manners, "My dear son, we don't leave visitors at the door. Please come in, Madame...?" Aunt Petunia eyed the strange woman with an unexpected look - almost fearful. Harry'd been expecting Gossipy Petunia, ready to worm out all of one's secrets within twenty minutes flat.

This was not her.

This Petunia was bright, cheerful, and smiling just so she didn't look upset in front of her son. Harry hadn't credited her with that much willpower before - or caring, for that matter.

"I'm here to take Harry to Diagon Alley, so he can pick up his things for school." The lady looked down at Harry with a gentle smile.

It had been a long time since anyone looked at Harry like that, he could tell you! People had bright smiles for him, or dark frowns. Or he'd smile at a pretty girl and get her to smile back. They always thought he was adorable, and more so when he bristled about the appelation.

Not Gentleness. Gentleness was for children. For people who were "nice". Harry hated nice, not the least of which was because nobody was ever nice to him, and really, if you didn't do it for everyone, what was the bloody point?

Aunt Petunia said, "I didn't hear anything about a letter. I won't let him go to your school. You'll just teach him foolish little things that will cripple his abillities in the real world."

Harry suddenly spoke up, "Who are you?" And then he cursed himself, as staying silent was ALWAYS the best move.

"Professor McGonagall," Minerva McGonagall said, "Teacher of transfiguration at Hogwarts."

"I received your letter," Harry said, "But I didn't have an owl to respond. So what is transfiguration?"

"Easiest to show you," Professor McGonagall said, turning abruptly into a cat, who meowed, jumped up onto the back of the chair, and then instantly turned back into McGonagall. Dudley (just outside the room) stifled an appreciative gasp.

Aunt Petunia said sternly, "Now you're just trying to corrupt my son. I want you out of here, and now."

Professor McGonagall said, "Harry deserves to learn about his birthright."

"Not if you want him living here. You said he'd be a normal child!" Aunt Petunia said, "He's been nothing but trouble."

Harry flicked a switchblade out of his sleeve, grabbing it in his hand and flipping the knife open. "Can't imagine why" Harry said, starting to use the knife to pick between his teeth.

Professor McGonagall seemed more startled than he'd expected at his conduct. Her mouth worked, but didn't really say a thing. "I will speak to the Headmaster to see if there's someone to take Mister Potter in. His parents had several friends that I believe might suit. Now, may I please escort your ward to Diagon Alley?"

"Get him out before the end of the summer, and the answer's yes." Aunt Petunia said primly.

"I shall do my best." Professor McGonagall said. Harry was trying to figure out what was wrong with the Professor. Usually someone would be upset, disturbed, or otherwise reacting to Aunt Petunia. This old cat held herself straight. She didn't seemed disturbed, nor even interested, in finding Harry a new home. He'd have to ask about that, he thought grimly. I hate asking questions of people I don't know and can't read.

[a/n: Professor McGonagall is rather against kidnapping. Even from people she dislikes. Leave a review? Guesses on Harry's house are always amusing!]


	5. Pounds Sterling

Harry Potter wound up in Diagon Alley, having been escorted there by Professor McGonagall. He tried not to stare, really he did. but when you see a woman with a Living Vulture on her head. Fortunately, other people were staring too. Harry turned his attention to his feet, using his peripheral vision to catalogue everything. His eye caught on a brilliant flash of light - was that real gold?

Professor McGonagall was talking, but Harry wasn't paying much attention. When she opened the door for him, he snuck a peek up, "Madame Malkin's Robes for All Occasions." Harry sauntered in afterwards, saying to the shopgirl, "The usual."

She looked down at him, smiling, and Harry reflected that this was the first time he'd seen someone truly smile at him in _ages_. Harry stood and allowed himself to get measured, the whole while staring out the shop window. There was a blond boy who looked a bit toff, who tried to engage him in conversation. As Harry's attention had been caught by a warty old woman with a big nose and a large hunch, the blond boy got irate, and finally said, "Are you DEAF?"

Harry turned to him, giving him a cold look, "Say something useful, and I won't be."

"You're going to want to know me, my father's an influential person." Draco Malfoy stated confidently.

"Why should I go to all the trouble of knowing you? It sounds like your father is the useful one." Harry responded.

"My mum's promised me sweets in return for weekly letters," Draco Malfoy said, not taking offense at Harry's candor. "You can have some, if you like. She always sends too many."

Harry Potter nodded, contemplating the boy. At least he'd understood that Harry could be negotiated with. "I think I'd quite like to share some sweets with a friend." Harry said, not quite committing to befriending the boy.

Draco Malfoy gave him a bright grin, as a woman as albino as her son entered. "Draco, it's time to get your wand."

Draco rushed over to Harry, noticing only at the last moment that Harry's arms were in the middle of being fitted. He gave Harry an exuberant hug, rushing out "Nice to meet ya!" before dashing off after his mother, who smiled back fondly at her son.

Harry Potter let his breath out slowly. His instincts had said to attack Draco - he hadn't wanted to be hugged. Well, that was one point to not befriending the boy. He was a _hugger_.

[a/n: Harry knows how to stare discretely. Direct eye contact is confrontational among toughs.

Do you think Harry should befriend Draco Malfoy? I have the strangest inclination to put Malfoy in a leather motorcycle jacket.

Leave a review!]


	6. I have your tab

"How am I going to pay for this?" Harry Potter asked Professor McGonagall. Harry knew dozens of ways to pay for something, and a twinkle and a crash generally worked best. Still, he didn't know how many shops the Wizarding World had, and rampant thievery didn't look to be something accomplished without _some_ cost. As he was with a Professor, he assumed she'd pay for things. He obviously didn't have Shiny! Coins! like these... witches did.

"I have your tab," Professor McGonagall said, "And we'll be visiting the bank to open your account, next."

"How do I open an account without money?" Harry asked with just a trace of a plaint.

Professor McGonagall looked down at him with a frown, tutting, "What are you talking about? You have plenty of money."

Harry slid his hands into his pockets, walking down the street beside McGonagall, his arched back sending his head behind McGonagall's ramrod straight back. He observed other people as he snorted, "Bet the Dursleys don't know about that. They'd treat me different, they would, if I had enough." Harry abruptly straightened, looking at Professor McGonagall again. "How much do I have."

"Enough for your books, and anything more the Goblins will tell you."

"Real Goblins?" Harry asked.

"Yes, but don't stare. Or smile. You'll find they have very sharp teeth, so be respectful at all times." Professor McGonagall said.

Harry considered showing the goblins that, if his teeth were dull, his claws were certainly sharp. In his world, respect was a two way street, and people who came armed to a conversation wanted to see the other guy's piece. Then, with a sigh, Harry decided to play it safe - just this once. If the goblins proved interesting, he could always... negotiate, later.

Oh, Harry wanted to stop in place and ogle the brilliant marble Greek temple that was the Bank. Gringotts. He forced himself to keep walking, and stared only long enough to read the inscription. Inside, his mind was racing. This was the equivalent of warning coloration at the zoo. _We're big, we're bad, don't mess with us._ Predators didn't need anything so incriminating. Harry was going to show them what a predator was.

"Here is Mister Potter's vault key." Professor McGonagall said.

"Why wasn't it in my possession?" Harry asked, trying to keep any semblance of a whine out of his voice.

"It was left in your care by your parents, and we couldn't give it to a baby." Professor McGonagall said sternly.

"Who gave it to you? You said my parents died fighting." Harry Potter said, his jaw jutting out.

"Why, Professor Dumbledore gave it to me, and just today! You didn't think I'd _kept_ it, did you?" Professor McGonagall said, and by how she said it, she meant stole it.

"Oh, so it was Professor Dumbledore who-" Harry said, his hands back in his pockets. The goblin was nearly smirking at him, Harry noticed.

"Don't you Dare say such things about him!" Professor McGonagall nearly shrieked, only barely restraining herself to a low hiss.

"Coulda used that money, I coulda. Woulda." Harry said, his drawl sounding strange with his Lancastrian accent.

"And that is exactly why you shouldn't have it, Mister Potter," Professor McGonagall said, in her sternest tone of voice.

"You'd begrudge me food?" Harry Potter said, his green eyes suddenly cold.

Professor McGonagall paused, and it was as if Harry watched a mask crack, and then fall onto the floor splintering into flinders.

"They were the Worst Sort of Muggles!" Professor McGonagall's trained voice stated - loud enough that all of Gringotts had heard. Harry hunched down, trying to hide his scar as efficiently as possible.

[a/n: Maybe this wasn't the time to talk about this? Maybe down in the vault?

I kinda forgot that he should visit bank first. So Prof. McGonagall did too - most Muggleborn can't afford, so they go on scholarship

Reviews! More writing for reviews!]


	7. Howling

Harry Potter howled as he shot through the roller-coaster-like tunnels. Professor McGonagall looked like she was getting seasick. This was AWESOME! It almost made up for not getting to do this in the Muggle world.

The cart came to a stop at Harry's vault, and the goblin jumped off, having secured the emergency brake (helpfully labeled, presumably in case the goblin was ever thrown off). Harry took out his key, and walked up to the vault.

There was no keyhole.

"How do I open this?" He asked the waiting people.

"Thought," the goblin said softly.

"Alright, you bastards, open up," Harry said, in a credible imitation of an American gangster barging into a gambling den.

Indeed, as the door seemed to melt away, Harry could see more gold than he'd ever dreamed of. "I'm rich!" He cried, "Bloody rich!" as he dived into the gold, swimming on top of it like he was Richie Rich (one of the few cartoons that Dudley was allowed to watch. No Magic, ya know?).

"Language," Professor McGonagall said primly.

Harry Potter looked back, and pretended to tip his hat at her, "Beggin' yer pardon madam, I forgot there were a lady present. Where I've grown up, that's a special occasion."

Harry started stuffing gold into his pockets, only to look back at the goblin and ask, "So, how do wizards transport this much money around? Or are there paper notes?"

"Money pouches, with undetectible extension charms," the goblin said, smiling toothily, "Only available in Gringotts, and that'll be five galleons."

"Highway robbery," Professor McGonagall said sternly, "He's neglecting to say that it's not legal to sell, or own these pouches."

"How much to lease," Harry asked, and got a warm (well, toothy and warm) grin from the goblin.

"A sickle a month," the goblin said. He eyed Harry Potter's leather clad body, and then said, "Yer smarter than most wizards. We'll remember that."

"Only so they can cheat you better," Professor McGonagall said.

"If I get cheated by a goblin, I'll call it tuition." Harry Potter said, "Confidentially, of course." he said, sparing the goblin a wink.

Turning back to his gold, now with pouch in hand, he saw, off in the dark corner, a book. He walked over to it and picked it up, bringing it back. Opening it in front of the goblin and Prof. McGonagall, he saw that it was a handwritten journal, nearly a diary.

"That.. that was Lily's..." Prof. McGonagall said, her face ashen.

"What? Me mum's?" Harry said, "Suppose that makes sense, don't it?"

Harry piled another three handfuls of galleons into his pouch before Prof. McGonagall said, "You've more than enough for the necessities and some treats."

"There're treats here?" Harry asked, "What kind?" He didn't want to admit that the only treats he'd managed to score, most of the time, were stolen goods. And porno mags for an eight year old were just something else to bring to the three balls.*

"I do suspect you'd enjoy Wizarding ice cream. There's a fine shop nearby. If you're efficient in shopping, we can eat there before I take you home."

Harry was nodding emphatically, already scheming on how to get everything as fast as possible.

*pawnshop, standard sign.


	8. Gin Weasley

Professor McGonagall seemed like she wanted to get out of Gringotts with her tentative sanity still intact. She nearly lept into the cart that she hated, in order to get up to the surface quicker. Harry Potter was as quick and reliable as he could possibly be. He didn't want her to grasp the idea that he was going to be coming _back_.

Up on the surface, the Professor said, "The first thing we'll do is get you a wand. All wizards use them to channel their magic."

"And witches?" Harry asked.

"Witches as well, yes, Harry." Professor McGonagall said.

"Did she say Harry? Is that Harry _Potter_?" A small redheaded girl said, before grinning and running over. "You don't look at all like in the books!" she said merrily.*

"I grew up a bit, yeah," Harry said, grinning and blushing a bit.

"No, I mean, the Harry Potter Adventures books, not the History books." The girl made a face, then said, "History's boring. Where's your sword?"

"My... sword?" Harry said, before whipping out a switchblade and balancing it on his palm, point up.

The redhead covered her mouth, which Harry was sure was gawping behind her hand.

"Rumors of its size have been vastly exaggerated." Harry said with a wink. "I'm only just eleven, after all." he said, sliding his hands into his back pockets.

"Mister Potter," Professor McGonagall cried disapprovingly. Unfortunately, that started a herd of people gathering...

"Mister Potter-"

"Oh shake my hand-"

"Please, you look just like your da..."

For a brief moment, Harry Potter looked overwhelmed, and then he leaned in to the cute redheaded girl, whispering something in her ear. She nodded eagerly, and then Harry, putting on his most scared and frightened face (it wasn't very good, but oh, well, McGonagall looked a soft touch), and said, "Professor McGonagall, can you make me a podium? I hate when all these people who are _taller than me_ are crowding about..."

Professor McGonagall's gaze did indeed soften, as she sighed, "I guess there's no way around it. Too crowded around here to pretend, I suppose." She conjured a podium.

Harry didn't set a food on it. As discussed, the cute redheaded girl jumped up, and started hollering, "Handshake from Harry Potter, a galleon apiece. Signatures for five!"

Professor McGonagall sent them both terrifying glares, but Harry was just glad that the crowd was starting to lessen. It wasn't that he was claustrophobic, quite, he'd been fine in his cupboard - but too many people made him prickly. And when Harry got prickly, he tended to prick people in ways that would stain the cobblestones.

Two gangly redheads came over as the crowd dispersed, "Ginny! There you are! What are you DOING?!" Belatedly, Harry realized that they were twins.

"Handshake from Harry Potter, a galleon apiece," Ginny cried, "Signatures for five!" Then, with a gamine smile, she flashed them thirteen galleons.

"We're so sorry about this!" The two twins cried, grabbing Ginny by the arms and hauling her off bodily, "But I want to talk with him more!" She cried.

*Ginny's a lot less self-conscious when her nag of a Mom isn't around, isn't she?

[a/n: This chapter was an accident, really! But if you were Ginny, wouldn't you run off if you thought you saw Potter?]


	9. Come along, dear

"Come along, dear" Professor McGonagall said, and Harry was regretfully dropped from the podium as she vanished it. She said dear in the same tone that Aunt Petunia said boy, and it meant words that Harry wasn't about to say in front of such a stern lady. At least, not before he knew all the getaway routes.

"Hey, I wasn't done yet!" Harry said. "There's plenty more people lined up!"

"Then they will be doomed to disappointment." Professor McGonagall said, grabbing Harry by the collar of his jacket and dragging him off.

Not wanting to be seen hauled like a seven year old, Harry caught up, and they went nearly the whole way down the street before they saw the blue and dusty storefront that said Ollivanders.

Professor McGonagall turned toward it, saying to Harry as she entered, "Here is where you will get a wand. It is how wizards are first taught to use spells."

"There are other ways?" Harry asked.

"In England, there are talented wizards who can cast without wands. Wandless magic is a very advanced skill, that you will learn when you're older."

Harry turned a gamine smile towards the dusty old man with the short grey beard. Harry stuck a hand out, saying loudly "Hi! I'm-"

"Harry Potter, a pleasure, I assure you." The old man cut him off.

"How'd you-?" Harry asked, his smile falling.

"I know everyone who is going to enter, before they do. The wand may choose the wizard, but it is I who make the wands. Each one is made for a soul, and only that soul can use it properly."

Harry blinked at that, and Professor McGonagall coughed lightly.

"Oh, yes! Where was I?" Ollivander said, "Here, let's try you out on these, just to get a feel for it."

Harry found himself staring at a dozen wands. "Erm, what do I do?"

"Pick them up, and give them a swish and a flick!" Ollivander said cheerily.

He wasn't nearly so cheery a hundred wands later. He mostly looked tired.

"Maybe it's not here...?" Harry asked quietly. Professor McGonagall made a noise like she'd been slapped, and Ollivander said, "Stuff and nonsense! Let me go into the back, you're a rare one, Mister Potter."

Eventually, Harry found a wand that worked, putting forth splashes of every colored light, kind of like a sparkler. "Yew, with a dragon's heartstring. Flexible, and strong. Not the one I would have chosen..." Ollivander said.

He stopped, and looked shocked, "I am an idiot," Ollivander said, walking hurriedly away. Harry exchanged a confused look with McGonagall, who seemed no more clueful.

"Here, try this one," Ollivander said excitedly

Harry did, and out of it flew golden sparks. Harry decided he liked the first one better, a feeling that was only heightened when Ollivander said, "The phoenix who gave a feather for your wand gave out only one other. That was placed in, well, the wand that gave you that scar."

Harry dropped the wand.

"Can I just get the first one, please?" Harry said, smiliing, "You can keep that one, it sounds like bad luck."

[a/n: Yes? No? Sperging about "you can't!"? Leave a review or I won't know!]


	10. You are just full of surprises

"The wiser move would be to buy both," Professor McGonagall said, "After all, neither is going to react nearly as well to any other wizard."

Harry's face fell, just a bit, at the thought that he had to buy the weird wand with the phoenix feather in it. Not that he particularly wanted to deprive this batty old thing of his fair wages for his craft. Thinking of that, more than the scar that he was beginning to hate (He'd always liked it before, it looked impressive with his hair slicked back, and the jagged thing was a fitting pair to his jagged smile. Quite threatening, indeed), he nodded. "Alright, I'll pay for it too."

"That will be fifty galleons," Ollivander said, and Professor McGonagall stirred beside Harry. Ollivander smiled apologetically, "The rare wands always cost more, because of the difficulty of crafting them."

"Still! Fifty galleons!" Professor McGonagall said, looking stern. Harry was glad that he'd grabbed a few gold coins for his sleeves* when he'd had the chance.

They paid, and after the door to Ollivader's had shut, Professor McGonagall said sternly, "You are just full of surprises, young man." Harry'd have smiled if he wasn't shot through with concern about ... Why, he could just ask. He _should_ just ask, she was a teacher, and teachers always liked to answer questions.

"What did he mean about the man who gave me this scar? What was he like?" Harry asked, wondering if this guy was some sort of hitman - or an assassin, or a crimeboss. Harry smirked inwardly at himself. He was being ridiculous, there was no way he was that important. A thread of doubt twisted through his head, _If so, why did everyone want his signature?**_

Professor McGonagall looked up in the air, and then whirled around, before saying lowly, "Not here."

Many children would worry at a statement like that. Not Harry. Harry's heart leaped. He was going to learn something interesting. Something important. Something, maybe even, a bit _scary_?

Professor McGonagall started to walk quicker, as if worried that Harry Potter would start asking more questions. But Harry'd heard her promise to explain, and was quite content to wait until she could explain.

She went back to the entrance, to the innkeep's tavern, and said hurriedly, "May we have a room, Tom, just for the hour?"

Not too far away, there was a dark-eyed man with inky eyes who stared disapprovingly down his long nose at the Professor and Harry. Harry felt his jaw jut forward. What right did that man have to judge us like that? He didn't even know if it was mutual or not!

*ledgerdemain.

**Professor McGonagall didn't have the whole "car crash" thing. We'll pretend I wrote that she said "Your parents died fighting during the War." at some point, I suppose, until I go back and fix it.

[a/n: Snape, of course, does have his reasons. Harry is expressing the folly of the young, who think they're much better at taking care of themselves than they actually are. Like most wise elders, I do realize that a sexual relationship between a 40+ year old woman and an eleven year old is inappropriate at all speeds, 'mutual' or _not_.

Leave a review?

Harry, of course, has seen the seedier side of life. Not that he's actually run into gigolos (they're rare in England), but even Harry knows the meaning of "get a room for an hour."]


	11. You must know what people say

Professor McGonagall had her Teaching Pose on, Harry Potter thought, as she started to pace, back ramrod straight, her right hand clasping her left hand's wrist behind her back.

"There was a Wizarding War in the not so distant past." She said, finally.

"What's the difference between that and a normal war? Do you fight for a Shiny Object? A _Ring_ , perhaps?" Harry asked, probing lightheartedly.

"A wizarding war is fought among wizards. Other than that, about the same. People die." McGonagall's eyes met his, "Your parents."

"My parents were _soldiers_ , then? What were they fighting _for_? Against?" Harry's questions tended to come in threes. It was how his mind worked, today.

"Warriors, really," Prof. McGonagall said, "There weren't enough on either side to have true soldiers."

Harry's frown quirked up, just the corner of it turning into a smirk. He liked the sound of that - far better than a car crash. That was just bland.

"They were fighting for the Light, and were fighting against Dark Wizards." Prof. McGonagall said.

"I somehow don't think you mean what I think you mean," Harry Potter said firmly. In his experience, white mages were healers, and black mages were offensive attack powerhouses. Didn't make for a clean fight if they clashed, and they definitely weren't in ideological opposition.

Professor McGonagall regarded him owlishly for a moment, and then said, "Most probably not. Dark Magic is banned in England. It corrupts the mind, and these particular Dark Magic Practitioners believed in killing Muggleborns as a matter of principle." Harry listened to all that, and was unfased - it sounded like propaganda, and Harry'd distrust that on general principle. Professor McGonagall's next words changed that, "Your mother was a prominent Muggleborn witch."

"Why was she prominent?" Harry Potter asked.

"Top of her class at Hogwarts, for one," Professor McGonagall said sternly, though Harry thought he saw her looking a bit proud, "And your father was from quite a good family."

"Was he a lord?" Harry asked, not sure if she meant he was wealthy or titled.

"The same as, only in Wizarding terms." Professor McGonagall said.

She took a deep breath and then continued, "The night the leader of the Dark - they called him The Dark Lord - vanished... he had come to your house, hidden away in little Godric's Hollow."

"Oh? I take it he wasn't there for tea?" Harry said, his eyes cold, not showing any of the humor his mouth was putting forth.

"No. He was there to kill them. To kill you. He wanted it known that a Pureblood Wizard ought not to marry a Muggleborn witch. That any who dared should expect only death from such a marriage." Prof. McGonagall said sternly.

Harry Potter concluded that he quite liked the morality of this Dark Lord, if not his ideals. It took someone hard and uncompromising to be willing to kill to make a political point. Such a pity, Harry thought, that he'd decided to make an enemy of Harry Potter. There was blood between them, and no amount of coin would buy Harry off.

"Certainly not my friend. If he was so powerful, how'd he die?"

"He disappeared, shortly after meeting you. Your parents were both dead." Professor McGonagall sniffed. "Some fools think this makes you responsible for his banishment. I find that ridiculous, of course. You were one year old."

"What do you think happened?" Harry Potter said.

"Two conclusions present themselves: First, either your mother or your father had access to obscure magics; Second, that the circumstances of your parents deaths allowed Wild Magic to preserve your soul."

"My... soul?"

"The Dark Lord liked to use Avada Kedavra, a most unforgivable spell - not to mention outlawed by the ministry for all save law enforcement, and then only in dire need." Prof. McGonagall looked stern, "It stole the souls of its victims."

"So people are... grateful... to me, for saving them from the Dark?" Harry Potter asked, "What happened after he was gone?"

"The Dark forces dispersed. Many plead coercion, often magical in nature. A few stalwart souls were sent to prison." Prof. McGonagall said.

Harry nodded, thinking quickly, "I don't suppose they'd be grateful to me for taking away this Dark Lord?"

"No, I'm afraid they would not."

"Then I'd better get cracking." And, Harry vowed, he would not be entering this world again without a good solid defense. Quietly, he began to shift, pulling a knife out from the riser of his shoe. He stuffed it into the scabbard sewn into the left sleeve of his leather jacket. Best to be prepared.

"Mister Potter, what are you _doing_?" she said, sounding more than faintly alarmed.

"Preventative measures." Harry potter said, smirking.

"I assure you that you are perfectly safe under my protection." she said sternly.

"Doesn't matter. If I can't fight back, I won't be able to relax." Harry Potter said, despite him being perfectly relaxed minutes earlier. He didn't tell her that he'd been ready to fight earlier, as well.

[a/n: Well. explanation's over. Prof. McGonagall doesn't sugarcoat. Reviews welcome!]

[a/n:]


	12. Apothe-whaa?

Harry Potter thought he'd been doing a good job of not staring. Prof. McGonagall had speedily whisked him out of the inn before he could get mobbed down in the pub. He'd managed the streets - even with people occasionally rushing up to get an autograph. Even with people wearing Living Vultures on their heads, and owls swooping and cats meowing underfoot and on awnings well over his head. And whatever that was, selling trinkets as if this was a faire and not a legitimate street - though how Harry would know the difference - it was a whole new world.

Harry'd gleaned plenty from the kids kicking mud in that person's face, however. Some things never change - and Prof. McGonagall striding by as if it wasn't worthy of comment was one of them. Teachers never did a _damn_ thing.

Stepping into the apothe- the druggist's, Harry had to pause, not looking at the scales, or even the well-balanced knives (he could tell at a glance, the Heft of the blade balanced for chopping). Harry's eyes went wide, staring at all the vats. There were ones with stillborn babies (if that was an umbilical cord), ones with pickled eyeballs. One of the eyeballs winked at him. Nearby, there were monkey paws, three fingers up, two curled down. Harry wondered if that made any difference. There were vats that sparkled inside, and ones that glowed with green pus - at least that was what it looked like, and it reminded Harry of Ripper's infected headwound.

Prof. McGonagall was undoubtedly busy finding what he was supposed to be buying, Harry thought, as he saw her out of the corner of his eye, looking critically at a mortar and pestle.

Harry strode straight up to the apothecary, and said, "Excuse me, are you Mr. Martin?"

"I am, young man," He said, giving Harry a genial smile, "Is there something special I can help you with?"

"Yes, sir," Harry said, "How much would it cost to buy those-" Harry's hand waved off in the general direction of the vats. "And which ones can I take into a Muggle neighborhood?"

"Oh, my word!" Mr. Martin said, his genial eyes sparkling. "Well, you certainly can't have anything that's still moving. In fact, I'm not sure anything other than - I do have chickory, and some dandelion roots, oh, and of course, the rose petals."

Harry frowned, "Those won't do at all."

"At any rate," Mr. Martin said, "You cannot possibly hope to afford the contents of the vats. Why, that's practically my entire inventory!"

Prof. McGonagall's withered hand landed on Harry's shoulder with a firm grip; it appeared Prof. McGonagall had materialized behind Harry, without him noticing. Some gift of catlike stealth, he thought grimly. "Mister Potter," she said, "You will stop harrassing the shopkeepers, and you will get the required items and nothing else."

"Excuse me, are you really Harry Potter?" Mr. Martin said.

"That's my name, don't wear it out." Harry said, "Although, if you can throw in a set of first years' supplies for free... I'd be happy to sign as much as you'd like."

"Mister Potter, you are not indigent and can afford a set of supplies."

"Yes, we'll take two, if you please."

"I don't wish an autograph, merely to convey my thanks, young man." Mr. Martin said.

"Okay, then we'll pay double." Harry said, looking at Prof. McGonagall - "I just want to make sure I have everything."

[a/n: Sigh. Harry wanted to terrify his cousin. And then if that worked, he wanted to charge money so couples could go in on dates. He'd shut the door of course.

Leave a review?

Re: last chapter - yes, Harry thinks Voldies politics are idiotic. He also has a personal grudge because of the murder of his parents. It's a matter of honor.]


	13. I didn't buy the potions ingredients

Out of the apothecary with only one extra set of ingredients. The cooper made chests here, apparently, so that was their next stop, Prof. McGonagall indicating that Harry ought to put the ingredients in there. She said, "Your clothes will be along."

Harry said, looking shrewd, "There's no other place to buy a chest here, is there?"

"Unfortunately, no," Prof. McGonagall said, and the shopkeep shot her a glare, his beefy arms tensing at the implied insult.

Then they were off to the bookstore, which looked about the same as bookstores everywhere do. Prof. McGonagall walked to the counter, and asked for the usual, which got a grin and a stack of books, already tied with ribbon.

Harry gave a winsome smile, and asked, "How many books will this buy, approximately?" He laid out a hundred galleons on the counter.

"About two hundred books, or so, young man. Depending on age and circulation and thickness, of course."

"Mister Potter!" Prof. McGonagall said, shocked nearly to the point of outrage. "Where did you get that much money?"

"From my vault, of course," Harry Potter said, leaning casually on the counter. "What books would you recommend? I know barely a thing about the Wizarding World." Harry tried to look winsome and apologetic and yearning all at once.

Prof. McGonagall rolled her eyes, "Ravenclaws," she muttered. Looking at the clerk, she said, "I think we'll both be needed, to find these as expeditiously as possible. This is going to take longer than planned as it is."

The clerk merely pocketed the 100 galleons, and nodded. "Send him off to the Culture and History sections, and we can ransack the Law and Fiction sections."

Harry knew, as he piled book after book in his arms, that he was grabbing both truth and lies. History, after all, was just stories - organizing facts to make a comprehensible tapestry. You could take those facts and make plenty of different narratives. A Liar learns how to twist facts, and Harry had known a confidence man or two. Still, if you read for facts, you could weave your own tapestry. If you were willing to think for yourself, at least.

Harry learned that 200 books really did fit in his chest, somehow. It made it very heavy, though, so Prof. McGonagall kindly added wheels and pulled it for him. Harry felt more than a little bad that the elderly woman was pulling it, but she was taller and stronger than he...

* * *

Prof. McGonagall thought she was dropping him off at his home. Harry hadn't the heart to tell her otherwise. He'd take his chest and hide it in the storage nook he'd let out (it wasn't that expensive, not for something the size of a cupboard). He'd have to move some of his goodies out, but, he'd been meaning to reassess how many knives a boy really needed anyway. And that piece* was nothing but trouble.

*handgun

[a/n: Did Harry make a wise investment? Do you think in a summer he'll read all the books? Leave a review!]


	14. Blutgeld

Harry had over 200 Wizarding books, but the only one he really, really wanted to read was his Mum's journal. For the entire time day he'd been thinking of it, dreaming of his Mum talking about - well, whatever girls talked about. Maybe how much she liked his da? Maybe her little baby? Maybe just what happened in class that day...

Harry's heart turned to disappointment, as he opened the journal. It wasn't a diary, not at all. It was a research journal. Still, Harry thought, he should read it. This, this was something special, something from his Mum to him. As he started to read, he grinned, and that only got wider with time, as he started to take notes. There was so much information here!

If this was his birthright? Well, it was a good one.

It took him the entire day to read the journal, though it was small. There were many things he didn't understand - blutgeld among them.

He fell asleep that night thinking of the rituals and spells he'd learned.

* * *

The next day, he read the book again, starting to cross-reference with other books. Or at least try to. He'd gotten through a dozen books which didn't have any connection - even the damned introductory tomes! Harry thought, _Who doesn't mention all magic in introductory tomes?_

Harry was reading a History of Magic tome (which curiously went on and on about Goblin Rebellions...), when he caught it. Apparently, many forms of magic were banned by the British Government. And it wasn't just the obvious ones - Dark Magic, whatever that was. They'd also banned goblins from having wands, and banned wandless magic in general (though how that was supposed to work, Harry didn't know. He'd been doing it for ages, after all. Would they ban _him?_ ).

Harry set himself a goal of finishing a decent survey of the Wizarding World within the next two weeks. It was a lot of books to read, and he'd have to blow off his obligations. But if he was really going into the Wizarding World, Muggle allies were of far less importance than they used to be. He could probably intimidate the Dursleys with his own knives at this point. Besides, it wasn't like he was asking for more than to be left alone, was it? Not hard to provide that, not when he looked enough like a thug that he knew Aunt Petunia's busybody neighbors asked why she let him stay with her.

After that, he was going to find some allies.

Life looked good.

[a/n: Well, yes. In JKR's story, Lily didn't care or have enough time to keep documentation. Here she has. Next chapter, let the games begin!

Leave a review, if you please.]


	15. I'm not like the others

Harry Potter had read enough to know that he could get into Diagon Alley without knowing a spell. It was a simple sequence, really. He didn't even need to trail in on the heels of someone busy enough to not notice a child. But he'd read, and he'd learned what he needed to know. He knew every strata of people, from rich to poor, and beyond. Better, he knew what they were willing to do. And the rich would ruin you. The poor, were like poor most places, vicious and dumb.

Harry didn't intend to engage either. He strode, still in muggle clothing, using a bit of nicked makeup to keep his scar covered, and a baseball cap to complete the image. He had a ball and a catcher's mitt, and was idly tossing the ball around. He wasn't headed to Knockturn Alley, not this early, not as an unblooded unknown. No, they'd know his name before he set foot on the mean streets.

Harry strode into Gringotts, lowering his head to the nearest goblin (who _wasn't_ guarding. Guards were always grunts). "Can I speak to the Management?"

The goblin looked at him, aggravated as he'd been counting money, "You don't know what you're asking for." he said with a sneer.

"Guess I'm about to find out, then," Harry Potter said with a devilish smirk.

"WON'T SOMEONE TAKE ME TO THE MANAGEMENT?!" He hollered.

Nearby, other goblins sent that one a glare. From farther away, guards started bearing down on him. Harry just crossed his arms, and tried for an air of impatience.

"We'll show you the Management, alright," one guard said.

Instead of anyone important, Harry Potter found himself in front of the Guard's Management - the Captain. "What's the problem here, fool?" the goblin captain asked.

"He was making a racket, asking to see the Management." the goblin guard who was holding Harry said.

"You. Explain yourself." The captain said.

Harry flipped him a galleon. "I've got business with the Management."

"What kind of business?" The goblin asked, biting into the coin as if it was pure gold, leaving pointy bite marks.

"Not quite sure yet, honestly. An alliance if I can swing it." Harry Potter said, smiling a wolfish smile.

"Oh, ho!" one of the guards chortled, "Human cub thinks he can make alliance with the Great Goblin Nation?"

"I'm Harry Potter," Harry said, half-smirking, "Currently worthless."

Now the guard captain was laughing, and the whole room shook. "I like this one. Send him upstairs!"

Harry was hauled off his feet, and dragged up a few floors, before being deposited in front of a door titled "Management."

[a/n: Yes, playing off Carnivale. Harry's playing his cards just so. Otherwise, he'd just have been barred from the building. Impressed with the goblins, knowing his place, trying to be bigger than his britches anyway. Leave a review!

The line after "currently worthless" (that the captain heard, despite it not being said) is "but a good investment, you'll find"]


	16. An alliance

Harry Potter banged on the metal door - after he'd slipped some actual brass knuckles on.

"Enter," the goblin inside said. Or at least that was what Harry'd presumed, from the tone. He couldn't actually understand Gobbeldygook, and the goblin had no reason to suspect it wasn't a native on the other side of the door.

Harry opened the door precisely, just wide enough for him to slip in sideways, and then close the door. "I was wondering if you could help me..."

"Were you now, child?" The goblin said, and his eyes were enough to tell Harry that he was treading on thin ice.

"I would like to proffer an alliance with the Great Goblin Nation." Harry Potter said firmly.

"You?!" The goblin said, "An as yet unblooded human?!"

Harry grinned, flicking a knife up into his hand, "I've shed blood before. I'd do it for my allies too."

"Are you suggesting that we'd need your help?"

"You might. I hear there are some things that can be done with a wand that are next to impossible wandless."

"You are surprisingly well-read for someone new to the Wizarding world." The goblin said, his teeth barred, "Would you really be willing to spill Wizarding blood for goblin allies?"

"Of course." Harry Potter said.

"What else do you bring to the prospective alliance?"

"Potential. I cannot say how well I shall do in class, or outside of it. But I believe a fully grown wizard, particularly a well-to-do one, might be of some interest to you as an ally."

"You are a fool. You cannot seriously expect the entire Goblin Nation to ally itself with a boy unable to even cast a single spell."

"No, I cannot." Harry said, meeting the goblin's eyes levelly. "May I inquire as to the price for goblin tutelage?"

"That has gone up a thousand-fold since the last time a Wizard requested it." the goblin said, "For reasons you are no doubt ignorant of."

"Every book speaks of rebellions." Harry said thoughtfully, "Not that I've seen your side of the tale, so forgive my ignorance."

"Your caution does you credit, human boy."

"I need to learn about the Wizarding World, and as quickly as possible. I believe your knowledge of current events would be entirely advantageous to me."

"And what if your learning turns you against Wizards in general?"

"I won't turn away from a just cause." Harry said firmly, _Although you might not like how I go about fixing things..._

"A thousand galleons a month for tutelage." the goblin said.

"Done," Harry smiled, "May I ask about one other things?"

"Yes, if you make it gold."

"I have heard that you are smiths by avocation, and accountants by treaty. Is this the case?"

"Unfortunately."

"I would like to learn how to craft."

"You realize that such are goblin secrets?"

"I do. I also realize that my learning may not be useful any place other than Goblin Soil."

"You have been reading." the crafty goblin smirked, "In your vault, there are a dozen artifacts that belong in Goblin Vaults. Give them to us, and we will teach you, for a time."

"Done."

[a/n: I'm not sure anyone's really done this before. Harry _does_ know how to negotiate. Leave a review?]


	17. Tyke

Harry Potter had been escorted downstairs, down to someplace so far beneath the earth that he hadn't known how deep he was. He fought to not be claustrophobic, as the goblin warrior said, "Here's where you be, then." Harry stepped into the room as the goblin gave him a slight push. It was small, and cramped. Reminded him of his cupboard, actually.

Harry had to remind himself that the goblins didn't generally allow outsiders down this far. So he was in a relatively normal room - he peeked across the hall to confirm. It was him that was too big, not the others too small.

The other room had a small goblin child peeping out of it. Conscious of his own size, Harry knelt down to eye level with the tyke. "Hello, I'm new around here."

"You're a big un!" the little goblin said.

"That I am. I'm used to big tall spaces, and sky all around me." Harry said, and the goblin's eyes got big. "What I'm not used to is down here, where the walls are tight, and I'm too big to be useful."

"That's for sure!" the little goblin said.

"Will you help me? I don't know the leastest thing down here, like where to relieve myself, " Harry'd quickly changed that in his mind from piss, remembering that children weren't generally allowed coarse language. "Or where to get something to eat."

"What's it to ya?" the little one asked.

"Quite a lot, actually," Harry said, and took a gamble, "I'll tell you a story for each help you give me. Telling me when mealtimes are - no sun for me to tell down here, see? Showing me where the library is? Anything at all, nearly."

The little goblin smiled eagerly, "Of course I'll help! I've never heard about Outside, other than not to go there."

* * *

The little woman hurried down the corridor, at a flat dash, "Uggyuk!" she cried, and the little one looked up, showing the first sign of alarm - Harry'd instinctively leaned away from the child, and the child itself shrunk back into his room.

"Why is you Wizard here?" the little woman asked, in her frantic panic she'd lost her vocabulary.

"To learn," Harry Potter said, and opened his mouth -

"You stay away from my son! Child-thieves, all big ones are." the little woman said.

"He never steal me, ma! I bite." The little tyke said, and showed his, admittedly pointy, teeth.

"That's my boy," she said, gathering him into her arms, and giving Harry a glare.

Harry sat back on his heels, on the floor, and waited. He waited there for a long time, long enough to go to sleep and wake up again.

[a/n: well, I wasn't expecting this chapter at all. Oh well. reviews help me write more!]


	18. You Come

The Management had had a weary power, one that spoke of decisions weighed and measured.

Harry Potter had only noticed this, however, when a simple goblin appeared in a firesmock.* He reeked of a different sort of power. The sort that weighed easy on a man. Harry wasn't used to craftsmen - he was used to thieves and thugs. But this goblin looked at him like he was measuring him out, laying him down and seeing where he could be stretched and twisted.

"You, Come." The goblin said, walking away at a ground-eating clip. Harry didn't have to hurry to catch up, but that was only because he was half-again as big as the goblin.

They arrived at the forge, and the sheer heat of it was enough to make Harry Potter almost stagger back. He was no stranger to pain, but... this heat struc differently. The goblin eyed him curiously, "How old are you?"

"Eleven years, as the sun rolls," Harry Potter said.

"As of now, I will teach you as if you were three of those suns." the goblin said, "You will learn, and advance."

Harry Potter merely nodded. He wasn't offended. He knew that many trainings started when children were young. Thieves started their training early, after all. Quick, light, deft - and crafty above all else.

"Down this hall, you will find metal. Haul it up here as quickly as you can." the goblin said.

Harry worked faster than a three year old goblin, he knew it - catching glances as he did of the older goblin forging, his hammer striking as he pounded fortitude into the metal. He could almost swear he nearly got an approving glance out of the grizzled goblin.

As Harry finished the last of his haul, the goblin thrust the breastplate into salted water. It hissed and bubbled, and the water overflowed. Harry was tired, physically, but he knew about that, and judged himself able to do another breastplate's worth, should he be asked.

"What have you learned?" The grizzled goblin said, as he pulled out the breastplate, not bothering to look at Harry.

Harry wasn't offended, "I'm no stranger to hard work, although I suspect a three year old would have been the whole day on that. I learned that you chill metal with water."

"Salted water, for this," the grizzled goblin said.

Harry bent down, scooping a bit of water up, and tasting it. "Not briny. Just a little, then?" He asked, and the goblin nodded.

"You also use hammers to strengthen, and heat - the fire - to bend." Harry said.

"I think we can start you on five year old's tasks now." The goblin said. "Eyes sharp like a goblin's teeth."

"Always," Harry Potter said, grinning. This was magic! Not waving of wands, but the honest toil that took bare logs ** and made them into real, useful objects.

*Roughly, an apron that smiths use. Sparks won't burn through it, hence Harry's unique title.

**Pigs, actually. Harry doesn't know that term.

[a/n: Not surprisingly, the goblins think learning to craft is very important. This is also not a skill they ever teach to Wizards, in no small part because no one has ever asked.

Leave a review!]


	19. Patience

Patience was not one of Harry Potter's primary virtues. But, working at a forge every day was both mind-numbing and fulfilling. He'd managed to completely forget the time, as he rose in knowledge and skill.

Harry'd been given the task of creating a dagger, that could be spellsworn later. He pounded and shaped it, melting and remelting it. All the while, the grizzled goblin watched, occasionally tapping his elbow to help him keep his form.

As the metal turned from bright orange, to cherry red, down to nearly black, Harry got the last of his blows in, sticking it into the water. When he pulled it out, he was relieved that it wasn't cracked.

"Well done, child of Man," the grizzled goblin said, "You may borrow what you have made, until such time as the Goblin Nation has need of you."

Harry Potter gave an awkward salute, his arms not quite managing the proper proportion. He then bowed, and said, "Thank you, sir."

"Tomorrow, you tread the realm of Man again." the grizzled goblin said, unsmiling. "You will take care, as you have been taught."

"I shall," Harry Potter said, and firmly asked a question, "But I do not know of the Surface world. How can I-?"

"You have been learning the bones first, before the flesh, and most definitely before the skin." The goblin said, his pointy teeth flashing at Harry. "For now, remember, you are as a Muggle and as a child in most men's eyes. For once, act your age - you will find many who will explain for you."

Harry nodded.

"We will handle the polishing later," the goblin said, and Harry knew that it wasn't the knife that was meant.

* * *

Harry tumbled out of the floo from Gringotts into the Train Station, looking around wideeyed and trying to get used to everyone being taller than him again. There was nearly no one there, except for a woman with a moving vulture on her head, and a chubby boy looking a bit wide-eyed himself. The boy looked wet behind the ears, and the older woman looked like she knew the wrong end of a wand in a rather personal way.

Harry skulked behind a pillar, wishing he had a fag. Not to actually smoke, just to pretend. Or, more accurately, to have something to do with his fingers. Away from the greenhorn, Harry tossed his trunk into a luggage like area, and then started to climb.

He'd gotten nearly to the top of the train on a ladder, and sat down on it, swinging his legs until they clanked against the metal side of the train. He watched as people arrived. Some stiff, some full of wonder. The kids his age ... seemed like Dudley, or maybe other kids from school. None of them walked like they could hear trouble. None of them had the easy slide of their feet that would keep them quiet and safe in the dark alleys.

The Weasley twins, he'd gathered, as he watched, were mean SOBs that weren't to be trifled with. They were the only ones around, seemingly, who knew a damn thing about stealth. Their wild grins promised anything but stealth, however. Bullies? Harry wasn't sure, but he did know he didn't want to be around them. Too bold, too bright. They'd outshine him, and then where would he be?

[a/n: Goblins have their own priorities. Leave a review?]


	20. Blondie!

It took a while before Harry saw someone else he recognized. Most of the older students arrived first - eager to reunite with their brethren. Pasty was there, and so were Pasty's parents - looking as starched and stiff as the Queen Royale herself. Harry frowned, as he noticed two hulking brutes behind Pasty.

 _Now, that wasn't fair_. Harry thought, crossly, as a smirk grew on his lips.

As soon as the trio had gotten into the car (two away from the one Harry was sitting on top of), Harry sprang into motion. Like a monkey, he ran on all fours, taking care to always have a hand or foot hooked, so if the train took off, he wouldn't be left behind. Harry was entirely careless of the shrieks and exclamations behind him. People weren't used to eleven-year-olds running on top of trains, who knew? After all, it was a magical world, after all.

Harry stopped when he was on the right car, hooking both feet and a hand on the top railing, letting his weight carry him over the edge. He landed with a loud thump on the side of the train. Two bright-eyed girls looked back at him, but he was already looking in the next compartment before they'd got the window open. He was halfway around the car before he found where Pasty and the Goons were sitting. Grinning, he hung upside down and knocked on the window. The goons surprise was well worth it, he thought with satisfaction. It was the slight blond, however, who opened the window and stuck his whole upper torso out, first looking down - this wasn't the platform side, and then rotating himself so he was actually looking at Harry Potter. "What in blue blazes are you doing up there?" Pasty demanded.

"Hiya, Blondie!" Harry said, not at all concerned about his upcoming brush with unconsciousness, should he stay in this position for much longer. "Mind if I come in?" Without waiting for a response, Harry fluidly swung his legs down (balanced now on justone arm, and parachuted into the cabin, landing (quite hard) on his rump. "OwW!" He said.

"My name is Draco Malfoy, and I suppose I'll grant you permission to enter, considering _you just did_." Draco Malfoy said sternly. Or about as stern as you can get with an aristocratic bearing _at age eleven_.

Harry wasn't to be intimidated. "Hey, Pasty! How'd you get goons already?" he said to the blond.

Without waiting for a response, he turned to the thugs, "Hey, mates, how about I double whatever he's payin' ya, and you can come work for me." Somewhere in the midst of this, Draco had said "My name is Draco," quite loudly. Harry paid him no heed.

One of them (the fat one), said, "He's not paying us nuffin."

Before the slowpoke could complete the thought, Harry'd jumped in, "Then you're getting ripped off! How about this - you protect us both, and I'll buy you all the candy you want!"

The thin one asked, "Even chocolate frogs?"

"Especially those," Harry Potter said, though he'd had no idea what one was. He figured they couldn't possibly be _that expensive_.

The fat one grunted, "Hafta talk with my folks."

Pasty stuck his nose in the air, "After the sorting, we'll be able to tell if you're the right sort or not."

Harry Potter grew a sudden, malevolent grin with entirely too many teeth, "Oh, that's easy enough to say right now. I ain't the right sort, and never will be."

Pasty smirked, "Something tells me we're gonna get along just fine. In Slytherin, justice ain't as important as revenge." From how he'd said it, Harry could tell that the aristocrat hadn't ever been allowed to use the word before. Ain't exactly queen's english, izzit?

Harry Potter grinned, genuinely for once, "I like the sound of that." He looked at all three of them, and asked, "Who else is on the train?"

[a/n: Leave a review? Draco hasn't quite gotten around to "looking for Harry Potter" yet. Harry is already ruining Draco, I love it!

Had Draco shown enough humility to take the name Blondie as a nick, he'd have kept it. As it is? Pasty he stays!

And now I'm picturing Harry calling Draco that around Draco's parents, and making up a completely spurious off the cuff story as to why the nick.]


	21. Boring people

"Who else is on the train?" Harry Potter asked.

Draco Malfoy responded with a shrug, "Boring people, mostly. Heard Harry Potter was supposed to be around, somewhere, though. Wanna have a look?"

Harry Potter wore a knife-quick grin, "Sure! While we're out and about, let's make things interesting!"

Draco Malfoy got to his feet. The goons were about to as well (being slow of body), but Harry said, "Just the two of us. I don't want any more wands in my face than needed."

"Have you seen Harry Potter?" Was the question to the third year Hufflepuffs, who looked googly eyed at Harry.

"it's the upside down boy!" one shrieked.

Harry just grinned, "That's me!" The rest of the car seemed to remember him as well, and Draco Malfoy started giving him weird looks.

Finally, right before they were about to leave the car, Draco Malfoy put hands on either side of Harry, on the sliding door.

Calmly, Harry swallowed and turned around, looking at Draco Malfoy and not saying a word.

Draco broke the staring contest explosively, "Were you born a monkey or something? Wizards aren't supposed to be on top of the train!"

Harry just smiled, "Nope, not a monkey. But what's the fun in always doing what you're told?" Harry opened the door behind him, ducking under Draco's arms as he spun the other boy.

"Dinner's waiting!" Harry called, as he jumped to the next (now moving) car.

Draco Malfoy looked startled (as he hadn't noticed the train had started rolling, being in the middle without a window), and then scared. It took him a moment or three, but he leaped across with a holler.

Harry Potter opened the next door, asking, "Has anyone seen Harry Potter?" The bookish people inside looked up, all with blue and bronze in their uniforms. "Oh, you must be Ravenclaws!" Harry said, darting inside. He bopped all eight books in the cabin, pushing them up enough to read the title, "Read it, have it, is it any good?, where's this one from, read it, don't read that, boring as sliced bread!, read that one too."

The nonplussed Ravenclaws looked up, jaws gaping.

From outside the cabin, a bushy haired girl with buckteeth asked, "Has anyone seen a toad?" Behind her, a pudgy boy looked a little intimidated by everyone.

Draco Malfoy had just put on his best sneer, when Harry interrupted, "Nope! But we're looking for Harry Potter, and I suppose we could look together!"

From then on, the entire train was asked, "Have you seen Harry Potter - or a toad?" Draco Malfoy, rather unwillingly, came along for the ride, not speaking to the bucktoothed nobody or the rather inbred specimen that was Neville Longbottom, who still hadn't been properly introduced.

[a/n: Draco's assuming that Harry, who he also hasn't been Properly Introduced to, is of a Decent Sort because he seemed positive about Slytherin. He's not a dunce.

Leave a review?]


	22. To Hogwarts!

"We're almost there," Harry said, snacking on a chocolate frog that he'd filched from a particularly obese older student. He hadn't been able to waddle fast enough to keep up with even Neville, so it was all good, right?

"Do we need to go back to our cabins?" Hermione asked.

"Not without my toad!" Neville insisted.

"Guess Harry Potter isn't on the train after all," Malfoy said.

Harry, remembering the smirks he'd gotten from the Terrible Twins (Who were apparently also categorized as Weasels), said simply, "You never know."

As the train pulled into the station, it gave a whistle. "You may disembark the train now, there is no need to take your belongings, they will be transported separately," a loud voice bellowed.

"Convenient, that," Harry said.

Malfoy sneered back, "Expected, really. I'd better go find my minions." Harry rolled his eyes at that one.

Neville hung back, still looking around for "Trevor! Trevor!" Harry tumbled onto the station floor, and as he rolled, he rolled right into a VERY large man. He was about eight feet tall, and looked as right round as a barrel.

"Hello, young un," The big, bearded man said.

Harry got to his feet, and thought, _My first minion!_ "Hello, good sir, I don't suppose you'd be interested in helping rough up particularly troublesome Hogwarts students?"

The big man frowned, "Don't suppose the headmaster would like me tussling with students, bit of an unfair fight you see." Then he leaned down and gave Harry a wink.

"So you'd protect me if I was being chased by five or six Seniors?" Harry asked, smiling innocently and happily.

"I don't suppose I'd take too kindly to Seniors beating up on someone half their size, no." The bearded man said.

"Gee thanks, mister!" Harry said, and gave the big man a hug.

At this point, the big man recollected that he was supposed to be doing something, and started to bellow "First Years, First Years come wi' me!" Harry obediently toddled behind, as the big man led them down to the boats.

Harry hopped in one, and started rocking the boat, to the tune of "You better not rock the boat." By a mutual decision, the rest of the first years decided that was NOT the boat to sit in. The bushyhaired girl sat down a boat away, though, and was heard to say to a black-skinned boy, "He's likely to be squid food!"

Harry Potter grinned, leaning halfway over the side (which made everyone in the other boat look nauseous), and said, "Nah, It's harmless."

"But I can't find my toad!" the chubby boy from before said.

"Accio Toad!" The big man said, waving around a pink umbrella. "Alright, now sit down here with me and this plucky lad..."

And the boats started to move across the Black Lake. Un-fortunately, Harry Potter was neither impressed nor quiet. Instead, he shattered the calm with question after question, "How does this boat move? Can you teach me the spell? If I rock it, will I go under? Is there a sticking charm?"

The big bearded man smiled, and shook his head, declining to answer any of the questions. _Good goon material,_ Harry thought, _the best goons don't think for themselves much._

[a/n: Hagrid hasn't realized this is Harry Potter yet, though he may have an inkling. Yes, the twins did realize they were talking to Harry, and decided to keep mum. Leave a review? Next up: Sorting Ceremony. Last chance to review and guess which House he's in! Leave a review even if you don't want to guess, though. Reviews mean more story!

Hagrid naturally doesn't realize he's been deemed Minion Number One. And to think, if Harry hadn't run into Malfoy, he wouldn't be thinking of minions at all! haha!]


	23. No Fun Teacher

Harry and his two bosom companions (well, boat companions, really, but how does that sound?) managed to get across the lake without actually making the acquaintance of the Giant Squid, which disappointed Harry. "So where's this squid?" He asked.

"According to Hogwarts a History..." Hermione started.

Harry rapidly jumped off the boat to avoid listening to the lecture. Also leaving the boat, the giant man bent down and said, "Hibernatin'." Harry looked back and gave him a wink.

As everyone got off the boats, Professor McGonagall, a stern looking woman with a hawk's glare to her face appeared up the steps. Harry mentally labeled her Miss NoFun-LacksSenseofHumor. She said, "Come along first years," and everyone piled into a rather disorganized line about five abreast. Harry considered seeing what would happen if he left the line, but decided that trouble was best plied when the teachers _weren't expecting it_.

The stern teacher led them up the main staircase, to a long hall with big doors at the end. Harry wanted to push on them just to see if they'd squeal. Instead, he listened as she listed off the virtues of each house - did she really expect folks not to have read _anything_?

At that point, ghosts poured in above their heads, causing one of the girls to shriek. "Hullo there!" Harry said, trying his best to seem both good-hearted and antiquarian enough to be sensible.

"Why hello, young man," A kindly ghost said.

"Will you be my friend? I don't have any friends around here yet..." Harry said, trying to look beseeching and humble at once.

"Why, of course! I'm a friend to any who asks," the ghost said, and Harry privately thought this was a rather dumb way of working.

"What do you do if two of your friends are fighting?" Harry said.

"Why, I try to mediate!" the ghost said.

"What if they are really fighting?" Harry said, "Not just playing around..."

"Oh, then I grab both of their hearts at the same time. Gives 'em a good fright and reminds them **No Fighting On Hogwarts Grounds!** " Harry found that much more impressive.

"Thanks for being my friend, Mister!" Harry said.

By fortunate coincidence, Prof McGonagall spoke up then. "Your sorting is about to begin. File in behind me, and wait where I stand. You will each have the Sorting Hat of Hogwarts placed on your head, and it will announce which house you go to."

Harry could feel the tension in everyone around him, as they came in. Turning to - oh, that was Malfoy beside him - "Why is everyone so nervous?"

Malfoy looked back at him huffily, "Do you have any idea how upset my family would be if I wasn't in Slytherin? I suppose I might pass as a Ravenclaw, but I think they'd toss me out on my head if the hat said Gryffindor."

Harry Potter grinned back, "If the hat said that, Pasty, you'd enjoy it." Draco Malfoy got this look on his face like he'd swallowed a lemon. _Nope, not Gryffindor._ Harry thought.

The Sorting Hat, in addition to telling which house you went to, apparently sang stupid rhyming songs. Harry winced at the saccharine sweetness, but resolved to not be thinking of that as he went under the hat.

The bushy haired girl - named Hermione Granger - such a mouthful! - went to Gryffindor.

The chubby boy - Longbottom, which was truly asking to get teased, if he was that fat... headed to Hufflepuff.

Blondie went to Slytherin. _Bet his parents will be happy._ Harry smirked.

Harry hadn't been surprised by one sorting yet, so when he put the Hat on his head, he asked simply, "Will you be my friend?"

The Hat laughed back, in his mind, presumably, as he hadn't heard it talk with the other students. "Oh, no! I'm just an inanimate object, you're going to want friends... no, that's not right. You don't want friends. You were asking me that to manipulate me. You'd make a fine Slytherin you know."

Harry Potter began chanting in his mind, "Please not Slytherin, Please not Slytherin."

"You'd go far as a Slytherin, they are the house of ambition don't you know."

"I don't want to live with a buncha backstabbers. Please, hat, can't you put me in Hufflepuff?"

"Well, you certainly don't understand friendship. But you're a loyal sod, and you did good hard work with the goblins. Perhaps you'll learn the value of friendship yet!" the hat said.

Out loud, it merely called, "HUFFLEPUFF!"

Harry smirked, and then smiled warmly, doffing the hat as he bowed to the students, turning around to place the hat on the stool. and then heading towards the house of badgers. As he sat down, he mentally reviewed what the students and staff had looked like. The students in Gryffindor had been shocked - and Prof McGonagall had been startled. One of the stouter professors (a woman of ample proportions) had smiled warmly at him. The two lanky professors at the end of the table had looked grim and dour, but they always seemed to look that way (Harry recognized one of them from Diagon)... And the Headmaster, in the middle? He smiled warmly, as he'd done for everyone. The Hufflepuffs were casually enthusiastic about Harry, starting to clap as they'd gotten over their dumbfoundedness. For everyone else, their new house had simply clapped. Harry got soft cheers, and was honestly tempted to give a speech.

After Harry'd sat down, and gotten backslapped by an older boy, he stole a glance at the first years that had yet to be sorted. Instead of the glare he was expecting, Draco Malfoy was looking standoffish, his nose up in the air. _Didn't take me for a Hufflepuff, eh?_

* * *

Snape's eyes had narrowed, as he saw the sorting hat call "Hufflepuff!" It wasn't outside the realm of the possible that wherever Dumbledore had been hiding the boy, that he'd picked up more loyalty than bravery. And the badgers would treat him well, not the absolute catastrophe it would have been if the boy had landed in Snape's house.

And then Snape saw Potter smirk. Hufflepuffs didn't smirk, as a general rule. But it was what happened directly afterward, that informed him of a rather urgent need to speak to Pomona. Potter had smiled, a genuine warm smile. But that was the affect, the mask. Hufflepuffs _didn't do_ masks. Snape made a mental note to talk with Pomona directly after he'd welcomed the first years to his own house.

Snape wrinkled his nose, again, at the sharp scent of garlic that Quirrel had picked up, along with his turban. What had happened to him in Romania, anyway?

[a/n: Flitwick is at the staff table, just not terribly noticeable, due to being small. Harry, as the Sorting Hat said, isn't looking for friends.

Rant Time: Loyalty is a virtue of thugs and lawbreakers. It is the Code of Silence which is relied upon when a group of people is not doing what's Right and Legal.  
You don't need loyalty if you are always doing things that everyone in your group approves of, after all.

I'm amused that people guessed everything except Hufflepuff. Leave a review!

Malfoy has decided that Harry Potter is _Not Worth His Time_ , because he got sorted into the house of the duffers.  
Lacking self-awareness, he's not realized that it says bad things about his cunning that he didn't realize, when they'd asked the rest of the train if they were Harry Potter,a and gotten negatives, that Harry was standing beside him.

And when I said Hagrid was Minion Number One, I did mean to say, Harry hasn't forgotten that he's Honorable, and Not To Be Used in Unfair Fights.]


	24. All friends here

Pomona Sprout, Head of House Hufflepuff, was waiting in the Hufflepuff Common Room to greet the first years. Actually, the entire house was. Harry Potter got to work, analyzing who was standing where, looking for friendships and dislikes. He was honestly surprised to see so many affable people. In his world, affable people found themselves six foot under pretty damn quickly.

 _Well_ , Harry thought, concealing a smirk, _That's what I'm here for. Making sure no one walks over these people just because they're nice._

Pomona gave a wide smile at her new Hufflepuffs, "Welcome to House Hufflepuff. You'll find only friends here, provided you're friendly in return. But," Her eyes sparkled a giddy warning, "You'd be well advised to not cheat your housemates. A badger - our house symbol - is fierce indeed when defending its den."

"I shall expect you to work hard, and that means making sure all your friends' work is up to standards too. No one should feel afraid to ask for help - we've all received some at times, and passing it on is the best way to thank someone." Harry saw some of the older Hufflepuffs grinning behind the Professor. _They actually believe this tripe..._

"Curfew is at 10 pm, but I will expect first years to be in quarters by 8, and second and third years by 9. It's easy to get lost here, and I don't want you getting accidental detentions."

"Here at Hogwarts, we run on the points system. That means that you can help or hinder your entire house's score, as we race to the House Cup! But don't fear, if you manage to lose points - we'll find a way to help you earn them back!"

"Now go greet your elders, and make some friends!" Pomona Sprout said, "The prefects - the ones with the badges - will show you where to sleep. Boys and girls separate, mind." Her eyes sparkled at that.

Harry Potter hung back, though he knew it would make him look a bit shy. He wanted to get a feel for the other first years. He saw two of them, a boy and a girl, go running into waiting arms - obviously siblings from the resemblance. Longbottom had been approached by a fourth year with brilliant gold-blonde hair, and had been nearly shocked to be bowed to. The other first year Hufflepuffs exchanged nervous smiles... and more importantly, had their robes worn slightly wrong.

Harry was surprised, and a bit annoyed, that older students wanted to fawn over him. He played it off as the big-eyed Muggleborn who didn't know _any_ of this, until most of them dispersed, looking dissatisfied. In fact, most of the older students seemed to be leaving, heading upstairs to rekindle friendships.

Harry nudged the Muggleborn girl, who was about to go up to see where she would sleep, "Stay a bit - I want the new kids to meet each other."

The girl's braids swung as she nodded.

"After all, I'm from the real world too," Harry said with a smile. They both headed over to where a thin blond boy and a bulkier boy with mudbrown hair were sitting and discussing _Toad the Wet Sprocket._

"Hey there, discussing bands I see..." Harry said with a warm smile.

"Yeah - hey, you know about bands?" Wayne said, giving him a broader smile.

"Course. She's from the real world too," Harry said, giving a bit of a nod to the girl he'd brought over.

"Pleasure, I'm Megan," she said with a smile.

The bulkier boy bowed, grabbing her hand and making to kiss it - before she pulled it away with an "Eww!"

"Why'd you do that for?" his blond friend asked.

The other boy got a grin on his face and said, "Haven't you seen how hoity-toity the folks are around here? I figured it was good for a laugh!"

Megan chuckled, and said, "So long as you don't slobber on my hand!"

Harry smiled, and asked, "And who is this gentleman I see before me?"

"Not me!" the bulkier boy said, hiding behind the thin blond (which totally didn't work), "This is Justin though."

"I'm Harry," Harry said with a grin.

"And this is Wayne," the blond said, sidling away from his friend.

They kept up the talk about Muggle things for a while, turning to football and the Olympics, until Harry was certain that they were the last people here.

"Well, you know what they say about Hufflepuffs," Harry put in.

Megan frowned, "No, what do they say?"

"We're supposed to be pushovers." Harry said, "And I think some people believe that Muggleborns ought not to be at Hogwarts. Think we're a waste of space."

"Well, we'll just have to prove them wrong, then, won't we?" Wayne said in a huff.

"I've got an idea that might help, " Harry said.

"Go ahead and tell us, then," Justin said.

"We could become blood brothers - and blood sister, I suppose," Harry said, smiling kindly.

"What does that mean?" Wayne said, looking more serious.

"I'm not sure if I want to spill blood, these carpets are plush." Megan said uncertainly.

"You don't spill that much, just a drop from each thumb." Harry said.

"What'll that do?" Justin asked.

"Make us stronger. Link us together, so that we can share each others strengths. Just a little boost." Harry Potter said, sticking strictly to the truth. Honesty was important to Hufflepuffs, and he had to live with them.

Wayne said, "Can't say I like the idea of people walking over me. I'm in."

Justin looked more doubtful, but said, "I suppose."

Megan grinned, "I'm not letting you guys get into trouble without me."

Harry looked confused, "Who said this was trouble?"

Megan responded, "No one! But I know trouble when I sees it, and you three are just that!"

"Hey!" all three boys responded, before dissolving into giggles.

Harry pulled out his goblin forged knife, and said, "Now, we each need to prick both thumbs, and press one against the next person's... all in a circle."

They did, though Megan's eyes teared with pain, which the boys pretended not to see.

"Not brothers born, but brothers made, free in choice that will not fade." Harry said, and each repeated it.

"Cool!" Wayne said, and Justin echoed.

"Let's get up to bed before all the good beds are gone!" Harry said, running off, a triumphant smile on his face.

"Hey! What about me?" Megan asked.

"Last one up's a rotten egg!" Wayne cried, as Justin ran after him.

[a/n: Up next - what Snape was doing while Harry was seducing the other Muggleborns. If wishes were fishes...

Leave a review!

Harry, unlike Malfoy, has to work to attract people. OTOH, he's attracting allies, not minions.

Yes, the title has significance. You were expecting some blood, weren't you, lovelies? Harry's getting "how tos" from his Mum's journal.]


	25. Just like a bug

Pomona Sprout had just sat down in her office, to start reviewing lesson plans for the year, when there was a rather urgent pounding on her door.

"Come in!" She said cheerfully, fully expecting it to be a prefect with a problem caused by one of the first years. Her older students were well-behaved enough to not start problems, but she couldn't expect the youngest to have learned that already.

The stout wooden door opened, not to a prefect, but to Potions Master Severus Snape, who strode in as if he owned the place. He also bore the invisible mark of gloom and darkness, as if he was never actually allowed out of the dungeons.

Pomona Sprout sat up straight. Snape was on her turf, and it wouldn't do to look like she could be cowed. She sent him a genuine, kindly smile (which she knew he hated, as it was the exact one Dumbledore used...) and asked, "Why, whatever's the matter?" She leaned back a bit, giving Snape the time and space to explain.

Snape, however, stubbornly refused to explain - he'd apparently come just for venting, "Harry James Potter, that's what!"

"Now, now," the Head of Hufflepuff said, sneaking another shiv under Snape's armor. She detested his 'you can't read my emotions' mask - any cracks were to be widened. After all, it wasn't like she meant him harm, now was it? "He's only just gotten here, you know. I'm thrilled that he's chosen my house! I do expect great things from him."

Snape sent her another glare, and then said something she didn't expect, as he slammed his hands down on her desk, "As do I."

"Well, then, what's the matter?" Sprout said, for the first time in the entire conversation genuinely curious.

"I need to speak to him, it is a matter of utmost urgency." Snape said, trying to conceal his motivations - and succeeding, mostly. Problem was, that just told Sprout that they were nefarious.

"Oh? What about?" Sprout said, starting to edge towards angry.

"I need to give him a warning - or a heads-up, if you will," then Snape smirked, and Pomona saw red.

"You will NOT be intimidating one of my first years!" She said, putting her full operatic range into it. Without shouting, she was still certain she'd partially deafened the sulky man.

"Po- _mo_ -na!" Snape said, and then collected himself, "Surely you know me better than that."

"I most certainly do not!" She said sharply. "Every year, you send three of my first years crying to my arms. Every year! You won't be starting on Mister Potter, I won't stand for it."

"I must talk with him," Snape said, his gloomy voice sounding certain.

"Then you may do so in class, as befits a teacher." Sprout said, reasonably.

"By then, I fear it may be too late." Snape responded, taking his black robes and air of gloom out with him.

But not before Professor Sprout felt a tingle up her spine, at what he'd said.

[a/n: Yes, if Snape had been nicer to most children he'd have gotten a better reception out of Pomona. Just desserts, my friends, just desserts!

Leave a review? Up Next: Draco writes to his father.]


	26. Dear Fadda

Draco Malfoy was up in his room nearly as soon as Snape had stopped talking. He opened his trunk, just to pull out a piece of fine parchment, and a quill and ink.

 _Dear Father,_

 _I have arrived at Hogwarts soundly. As was expected, I have been sorted into Slytherin, so you may tell Mother to pack the blue sweaters away._

 _You asked for a report on Harry Potter, and I do believe you shall be quite surprised at my tale._

 _Apparently, I had already met him in Diagon Alley. He managed to misuse his manners in such a way that despite spending the entire train ride with him, I did not actually catch his name. I would have enjoyed such a sense of humor, were it not pointed in my own direction. At one point, Harry Potter was on top of the train itself (luckily, while the train wasn't moving, otherwise the Wiesgamot would be short another Heir!)._

 _I don't think you need to worry about Heir Potter, for good or bad. He's been sorted into House Hufflepuff, and we all know who goes there._

 _Your son,_

 _Draco Malfoy_

Draco smiled and sealed the envelope, asking for some directions before heading up to the owlry. It wasn't too late, so Draco wandered the top floors for a bit before heading downstairs. He wasn't surprised to see mostly upperclassmen 'reuniting' - ugh. Draco hated mushy stuff.

[a/n: your daily reminder: Draco's eleven.

I suppose Draco might have been pissed at Harry, had he not just decided to write him off as a duffer.

Reviews get you more story!]


	27. A sharply worded letter

Breakfast came the next day, as Harry sat with his 'friends' - those he'd promised to keep close to himself, closer than love or gold. From the Head Table, eyes stared at him. Harry didn't find that terribly unusual, other than the fact that he was actively trying to blend in. Would he be a wolf in Sheep's clothing, otherwise?

So, it made Harry wonder that everyone was looking at him. He wanted to sigh, and complain about being famous. But, like every double-edged knife, there was always a way to turn it to your advantage. Harry just had to find it.

His head of house looked his way with a kindly, congenial smile. Harry'd never been hugged before, but she seemed the type to give a hug to everyone. Beside her, that lanky man with the limp, greasy hair glared at him. Harry returned his gaze levelly - he wasn't one to back down from a fight, but neither was he going to start one without a good reason. Prof. McGonagall looked at him from down the table, her mouth pursed, though she didn't seem upset. Maybe... regretful? Old fool of a bird if she thought she could have swayed him to the house of the GloryHogs. Harry much preferred people who saw what needed doing and _got it done_.

Not actually at the high table, but seated nearby, the giant shaggy man looked hopefully at Harry, and when he caught Harry's eyes, gave a wide and cheery wave. _Well, at least someone likes me._

Justin had been describing what Eton looked like, comparing it to Hogwarts, when Harry felt two hands clasp his shoulders. Instinctively, he drew his knife, keeping it concealed under the table, although it looked like Wayne heard the hiss, as he looked curiously down. Then he tilted his head back, finding two freckled twins. "Oh, it's you." Harry said, raising his knife to top the table. He absently flipped it, catching it without looking. "Might want to not startle me next time."

"Wise words from an ickle firsty," One said.

"We wanted to thank you," The other said.

"What for?" Harry said, sheathing the knife without moving his gaze from the twins. His 'friends' relaxed visibly as it disappeared.

"For pranking the entire school of course!" One freckled face said, and they both grinned.

Harry raised an eyebrow, saying, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

The twins grinned back at him, saying, "Of course not!" (and then they winked, by which they meant that they didn't believe a word Harry was saying.

One of them said, "We can't figure out how you managed to trick the sorting hat! Did you silence it and then shout what you pleased?"

Harry pursed his lips, "What? No! I belong to Hufflepuff, fair and square."

"It's not every day that a Hufflepuff pulls a stabby knife in the Great Hall." one twin said.

"Bravery like that's liable to wind you in Gryffindor." the other said.

"How about we adopt him?" They said, looking at each other.

Harry, whose neck was starting to hurt from craning back, said, "What?! No thanks!"

"We'll throw you straight in that briar patch," the twins said, their bright blue eyes looking at Harry. Unfortunately for Harry's sanity, they managed enough of the Gullah accent that Harry had no idea what they were saying. Although, upon seeing those manic grins, he had a very bad feeling about everything.

* * *

Draco Malfoy grinned when he saw his eagle owl coming with his mail. His mum had promised she'd send treats, and a letter every day. As he pulled the scroll off his family's owl, he frowned. That wasn't from his mum. It was the Malfoy Seal, pure and plain - the one his Father used, for personal correspondence (He had a much more gaudy one, with three different colors of wax, for formal occasions).

 _My son,_

 _As I am far longer in the tooth than your young years, I shall impart wisdom that I had to learn the hard way._

 _Watch carefully, when things occur that you do not expect._

 _Harry Potter is one of those unexpected people, I see._

 _I would have thought him a Gryffindor like his parents, or a Slytherin, with his abilities and ambition._

 _Keep a careful eye on him, son. And report back what you find._

 _With love,_

 _Lucius Malfoy_

Draco Malfoy wanted to burn the letter, out of sheer frustration. Then, abruptly, he realized he should burn the letter. Leaving behind evidence that the Malfoys were conspiring was dangerous after all. And yes, this was just a simple conspiracy, observational attentiveness, his father hadn't even asked him to befriend Potter. Which was good, as what sort of Slytherin had a friend in Hufflepuff?

Draco Malfoy wanted to write back to his father, telling him in no uncertain terms just how much of a fool he'd been made, and how his pride as a Malfoy wouldn't let him...

Draco ate that pride, swallowed it even as it threatened to choke him.

And then he looked over at the Hufflepuff table, frowning briefly as he noticed the Terrible Twins leaving the table.

This was going to be tricky.

[a/n: Hehe. Draco's father is causing him 'mood swings'. Snape didn't see Harry flipping a goblin-forged knife (he was again, trying to persuade Pomona to let him 'have a private moment' with Potter. He'd been hoping to gain Albus' assistance in this quest, but that proved futile). He'd have swooped down on that like bees on honey.

Reviews?]


	28. Oaths again

The next day, Neville Longbottom had gotten lost, again. Hogwarts was a perpetual maze of shifting corridors, and the ghosts and portraits seemed just as likely to send you into a dead end as anything else.

So, by the time he'd gotten back to Hufflepuff, it was almost time for dinner. That explained why none of the upperclassmen were there - they undoubtedly had done the smart thing and gone there in the first place.

Neville looked at Hopkins, Finchley, Potter and Megan (Neville immediately felt bad that he couldn't use her last name, but she'd never given it. Not even to the teachers), all huddled together on the floor whispering about something. He felt a pang in his heart at that - he hadn't been here two days and already people were excluding him.

Walking over to the group, he barely noticed Bones and Abbott entering. Neville squatted down (careful, as he'd learned at breakfast, not to startle the Hufflepuff-with-a-knife, and an extremely sharp one at that), and touched Hopkins and Finchley on the shoulders.

Both of them jumped, and Neville laughed along with the whole group. "Look at you, thick as thieves."

Megan suddenly drew herself up, looking as haughty as Narcissa Malfoy. "I'll have you know that I'm no thief."

Hopkins grinned, "But it just makes sense that we'd be together, doesn't it, sistermine?"

Megan grinned, but it was Fitchley that said, "Of course, brother mine," adeptly imitating Hopkins underhill accent.

Neville rocked back on his heels, and grinned, in a gesture that clearly said that he was humoring everyone. "Sounds like fun! How do I join?" His questions sounded painfully earnest even to his own ears. But he was in Hufflepuff, so surely they wouldn't take advantage.

"We'd have to increase the circle," Harry Potter said.

"The... circle?" Neville Longbottom, Heir of House Longbottom said very very carefully, as he didn't want to make assumptions about his housemates. Harry's eyes had flicked up, so Neville sent a glance back, seeing Bones and Abbott standing behind him.

Bones started to speak, even without being properly part of the conversation. "That sounds like ritual magic..." Her eyes were wider than Neville's. Then again, when her aunt runs the law enforcement...

Harry nodded somberly, and then started to slowly grin. It looked almost creepy spreading across his face, but by the end he was grinning with the best of them. "You want in?"

Abbott hadn't said a word, but now she put her hand to her lips, "Ritual magic. ritual magic, what kind of ritual magic? Oh there's all sorts of kinds!" She sounded completely flustered, and Neville wanted to reassure her, but he couldn't, because he knew, just as well as she did, that most Ritual Magic was Dark, and even most that wasn't was banned by the Ministry as Probably Cheating.

With a sweet smile, Megan looked at Abbot, saying, "We just pricked our fingers, and said a few words."

Neville tried, he really did, to put on his Adult Face, to look like his Gran, who could - and did- face down evil Dark Wizards like Lucius Malfoy. "Harry, that's blood magic."

Harry's mouth quirked on one side, and he raised an eyebrow a bit.

"Life imprisonment if they find against you." Bones said.

Harry didn't look at all surprised, which was suspicious. "My mum taught me how, even though she's dead."

"A ghost?" Hopkins asked, and Neville froze, hoping it wasn't some sort of grim spectre that had tainted Harry Potter Boy-Who-Lived.

Harry snorted, "Just her journal."

Everyone nodded around the circle.

"We could really get in buckets of trouble for this?" Megan said. "I just did it because everyone else did it."

"Yeah," Bones said slowly.

"So, you in?" Harry Potter asked.

Neville, his hands in fists, "I can't believe you tricked these Muggleborns into a Blood Ritual! You should know better than that, Harry James Potter!"

Harry's mouth quirked, though he otherwise didn't physically respond to Neville's anger. "Good. I didn't trick them. I just told them the truth."

Abbott asked, "What's the oath?"

Hopkins looked proud to know it, and said, "Not brothers born, but brothers made, free in choice that will not fade."

Neville knew he shouldn't want to draw such notice to himself, that he shouldn't get Mixed UP With the Law, but... on the other hand, he'd seen how close they looked. He wanted that. "I'll do it."

Abbott nodded, suddenly determined, "Hufflepuffs forever!"

Bones said, crossly, "Someone needs to keep you blinded fools out of trouble."

Zach, who'd been lurking behind a couch, popped his head over, "You're going to get in so much trouble."

Harry directed innocent eyes up at Zach, saying, "Even with lucky number seven?"

[a/n: The three wizarding kids REALLY ought to have known better. What do you suppose will happen to them? Leave a review?]


	29. Come with me

Longbottom, Bones and Hannah nodded at each other. "Potter, come with me," Longbottom said, and this time his voice did not quaver, and he did NOT sound shy. Not quite as good as his indomitable gran, but it was a work in progress.

"Me, why me?" Harry asked, as the taller Bones and Abbott tugged him.

"Want us to come?" Megan asked.

"No, we're good." Bones said, her eyes glinting fiercely.

They hauled Harry by the robes back to his dormroom. That actually made more sense than it sounded - any other place would be prone to interruptions.

Bones put what looked like a spider on the door.

"Wha-?" Harry asked, his eyes glinting greedily.

"Anti-eavesdropping device." Bones said firmly. "They're not for sale," she continued, correctly reading the look in his eye. "Learn the spells yourself."

Harry's eyes sparkled and he nodded. "What sort of interrogation is this?"

"Informative, in the main." Neville said, "Of course, after we know stuff, then we get to do stuff."

Harry nodded. This was smarter than he'd been expecting. And infinitely stupider. "Before we start... why'd you do the ritual first, then interrogate me?"

Abbott finally spoke, "I believe you when you said you didn't lie."

Bones eyes looked flinty, "True, however, it doesn't mean you didn't dissemble, pervert or otherwise twist the truth."

Longbottom said, slow and deep, "I'll take the full truth please."

Bones' eyes sparkled, "We're in this together after all. And we can't start digging us out of the hole until we know how deep it goes."

Harry looked at them, and smirked, "You didn't trust me to tell you the truth if I wasn't sure you were on my side."

Abbott shrugged, "Hufflepuffs are naturally loyal. Nobody asks to whom, though. It was a good guess, that you'd be loyal to those sworn in the Circle."

"And a true one," Harry said, giving them that green-eyed grin.

Harry took a deep breath.

"I told them that we'd share our strengths, which is true. We also will share weaknesses, although they divide, not multiply. So if you're allergic to shellfish, you'll be 1/7th as allergic. Same with pain, and I think that's likely to be a lot more relevant." Harry said. "It doesn't take two ears, just two eyes, to see how other houses feel about Hufflepuff. Be cautious, and prepared."

Longbottom said, "Have you considered the ramifications of death on the Circle."

Harry's eyes looked leaden as he looked at Longbottom and Bones, "I hope that won't come up for ages. But the seven are an anchor, and might be able to save one of us from death."

"That's...That's necromancy." Abbott said.

"Nope." Harry said, popping the p. "Just bloodmagic."

Bones gave him a craggy grin, "It's a good thing you have me on your side. If you didn't, you'd probably wind up in jail the instant someone realizes."

"How's that? Who do you know?" Harry asked.

"My aunt's the head of the DMLE - law enforcement in Britain. There's little she won't bend for her niece."

Harry grinned and nodded thoughtfully, "You'll do well, Bones."

Harry turned to Longbottom and asked, "Where'd you get the new voice? Deep and slow... It suits."

Neville responded, "My gran. She was an auror, and someone no one, not even Voldemort, wanted to face down."

Harry snickered, "And with that in mind, you tuned your voice down an octave?"

Neville said, "I think she used to smoke. A lot."

Harry, in response, pulled out a fag, twirled it in his hand, and finally stuck it behind his ear. This left the rest of the Hufflepuffs staring.

[Yes, this was necessary. No, Harry isn't the only one with a brain around here. Leave a review?]


	30. Cunning and Courage

Thursday, Harry's sorting caught up with him. He'd been sitting in a Hufflepuff/Slytherin Charms class (which was boring, as they hadn't even started casting yet) - He'd realized he'd forgotten his book for Herbology, so he'd left a little quicker, heading downstairs towards the dungeons.

Unlooked at, but certainly not unnoticed, Malfoy traipsed behind him. Harry idly felt like dodging a hook, just to see if Malfoy was really following him. Unfortunately, he didn't know this place well enough yet.

Who would be stupid enough to anger their Head of House? Harry'd seen how genuine she was - in rage, she'd be thunderous.

It was in the first floor stairwell, that Harry first became aware. Three Griffindor firsties stood there, wands out. Harry was a good three feet above them, which in a Real World battle would give him considerable advantage, by taking the high ground,

Harry didn't reach for his wand. He reached for his knife, pulling it out and looking at it in the dimly lit stairwell.

"Why aren't you in Gryffindor?" the redheaded leader asked. "Are you a coward?"

From behind him, Draco Malfoy's voice echoed, "I'm curious about that as well."

Harry had to forcibly restrain himself from punching Draco's face in. Even if it wouldn't have worked, even if Draco was his friend (which he probably wasn't, just listen to him), Harry was wired a certain way, and that was that.

Harry gave them a nasty half smile, looking up with his face still pointed at the knife.

"Would a coward do this?" Harry said, and drew the knife over his palm. Blood pooled, and then started to drip.

Harry closed his eyes and started to hum a soft lullaby. So, he didn't see the maroon creatures froth in the blood, yearning to leap on the Gryffindors.

He did however, hear the sound of the three running away. "This isn't over," the leader blustered. Harry was glad he didn't need to hurt them. This time at least.

Harry opened his eyes, pulled out a salve that he'd made before arriving at Hogwarts, and then looked up at Draco Malfoy, who was still standing above him, but at least now trying to act nonthreatening. "What do you think?"

"You're a bit odd for a Hufflepuff," Malfoy said slowly, "That was Slytherin cunning, on the level. Oh, you've got the Gryffindorks convinced it was bravery, but you didn't so much as need to draw your wand."

Harry looked up at Draco, and smirked. "Hufflepuff's a good fit for me. Slytherin would have been too restrictive."

Draco blinked, thought about that, and said "Slyt- not- what do you mean?" Draco was so confused he had almost managed a whine.

Harry said, "Nobody expects things from a Hufflepuff do they?

"My father does," Draco Malfoy said.

"Pull the other one. Your father doesn't, or he'd be more accepting of you achieving that Noble House."

Draco had to admit Potter had a point. Except... "He wants us to be friends, I think."

"Managing your children's friendships is a futile endeavor." Harry said, crossing his arms.

"Yeah," Draco said, "Try telling my father that."

"I should, shouldn't i?" Harry said, smirking. "I've got to get my herbology book and get to the greenhouses, I'm going to be late."

"Here, my parents bought me a spare," Draco said, "For the entertainment alone, it's worth it."

"I'll get it back to you," Harry said, running off.

[Reviews welcome!]


	31. Tales of Potions

That morning, Severus Snape's eyes had been trained on the Hufflepuff's table, like a laser sight on a target. That rumpled, positively scruffy hair of one Harry Potter, bane of Snape's existence.

Why couldn't he have just gone to Gryffindor, like a good little lamb? (Oh, he'd be in for it if he ever called one of Minerva's cubs a lamb in her presence!). Hufflepuff, which was the least obvious choice for the Hat to have made. Snape had sussed out that Potter had been put in Petunia's 'loving' care, and from the slight look to him, he hadn't been well took care of.

And that smirk. Snape had known something was up, because Hufflepuffs didn't smirk.

But no, Pomona would not let him speak - just speak, mind - to the lad (Minerva's speech was rubbing off again, blast it to the nine hells and beyond!).

Draco Malfoy had been instructed by his father to befriend ... the Hufflepuff. If there was something that possibly needed less work, ordinarily speaking, Snape didn't know of it. Cedric Diggory was such good friends with both Slytherins and Gryffindors, that he was worth his weight in prefects (at least two, possibly three!).

Of course, Lucius couldn't help but write a letter of inquiry back, when his son told a 'most unbelievable tale.' Snape didn't stop for a moment in incredulity. It fit, and that disturbed him.

Snape had a routine worked out, to try on the Golden Gryffindor boy. He suspected this was one Hufflepuff he wouldn't see tears from. If he was particularly lucky, he might even see teeth.

Snape had always been a proponent of taking the measure of a man by putting him in extremis. Snape's blackened heart glowed black, with the amusement of taking out his displeasure and frustration on James Potter's son.

* * *

Harry had heard from Cedric, one of the leaders of Hufflepuff (even if he was not yet in an official capacity. Harry approved of that, of course)j, that Snape was known to be a bastard, and that he often reduced Hufflepuffs to tears (but, as Cedric smirked, the Ravenclaw tears were worse, because they Did Not Stop).

Maisie, a prefect two years older than Cedric, said, "Oh, don't listen to him. If Snape's yelling, you're in the wrong. Sandra might have started crying, but that was because she nearly took Terry's arm off."

Sandra spoke up from halfway across the common room, "He'd have died, truth be told. That potion interferes with blood clotting, and there's only so much blood-replenishing can do. You wanna tell me I shouldn't be crying for having been so stupid?"

Harry wouldn't have cried, he knew that. He'd looked death in the eye more than once, and knew the stakes. Then again, he silently vowed, he was not going to be caught flatfooted in the class either. Hopefully, they wouldn't have a potion the first day. Harry'd been so busy with the other classes that he hadn't done his reading yet.

[a/n: A bit of... humanization of Snape. It should be clear that Snape wouldn't just harass Harry because of his da. You may notice odd linguistic foibles in Snape's thinking. This is Snape uncensored, so he's using every bit of grammar he's picked up, picking and choosing. The illusion he gives of a Proper Pureblood Slytherin is just that, an illusion. Snape has many, many more tricks in his toolbox.

Snape, as well, doesn't have an axe to grind against Hufflepuff. He's mostly fair, even when on a full-court tirade. Hufflepuffs cry because they care.

Leave a review!]


	32. Like Hell

Harry Potter strode into Potions class, not especially early, nor close to being late. He sat beside Megan, and opened his book, for a dash of speed-cramming. If he had time, he was going to use it. Like hell he was going to spend it being afraid of a blasted teacher. It wasn't like he _actually_ tortured people.* Other students (mainly Ravenclaws, who had apparently gotten lost) filed in, and at one minute before, the Potions Master strode through the door, opening them with a crash - and letting them slam shut behind him on the rebound.

Harry was jealous. He wanted doors so finely made that they'd do that on their own, without him having to close them at all. More impressive than getting his robes to swirl like a whirlpool, at any rate. Which the Potions Master had down to a T, as well.

"Morning," Snape said in a voice that dryly noted there were no good mornings, "I am Potions Master Severus Snape. Many of you will be lulled by the lack of wand-waving in this class, sent into a nightmareish realm of inferior work and incompetent results. You will regret any lack of intelligence and discipline. In my years as a teacher at this school, we've only lost three foolish children."

Mandy raised her hand.

Snape continued, as if there wasn't a question. "Work hard, work precisely, work with your minds as well as your hands, and I will show wonders you have yet to dream of. That is to say, if you aren't as big a pack of dunderheads as the other class." Harry mentally filled in Slytherin/Gryffindor, and then chuffed out a silent laugh, at the Head of Slytherin House subtly insulting his house.

"Hufflepuff," Snape said, his eyes trained on Harry, as he was apparently not satisfied with perfect silence in the classroom, "Is there something you care to share with the class?"

"No, If I cared to share it, I'd have asked permission to speak." Harry's green eyes met those ink-black holes Snape called eyes. Mandy's hand had gone down, at some point.

Snape began to take roll, moving quickly down the lists. When he came to Harry's name, he said it differently. "Harry Potter," he'd said, almost diffidently. His reaction when Harry calmly said, "Present," however, was something else. He looked up, and said, "Ah, our latest celebrity. I might have known. Already distracting the class with foolish off-topic musings."

Harry was generally a fair person, unless given reason to be otherwise. So he generally wouldn't have minded what Snape said there. Except that he'd kept his amusement to himself.

"Potter! What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" Snape said, nearly snarling. Harry idly wondered if he scared dogs with that mouth.

"I don't know," Harry said, opening his mouth to explain a bit more, but Snape cut him off.

"Where would I find a bezoar?" Snape asked, his eyes simmering, but his tone mild.

"I don't know, I've not heard of that before." Harry assumed this was some sort of "How much do you know" quiz. Though why it was just him, he didn't yet understand.

Deceptively bored sounding, Snape asked, "What's the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?" Harry could see, though, that the man was balanced on his toes. Why he'd be ready to leap while teaching a class... Man was strange.

Harry's eyes fell to the book he was reading, as he quietly murmurred, "I just read that."

"Mister Potter, your answer please," Snape said.

"The book says there's no difference, so I'm not sure what I'm supposed to tell you," Harry Potter said, his green eyes flashing defiance.

"Class take note, you'll do far better in my class by reading the assignments and taking notes, than by loafing about coasting on your unwarranted fame." Snape said, and Harry agreed with him, for what it was worth. If only he hadn't been singled out to prove Snape's point.

Snape gestured at the board, which instantly filled with a recipe. "Your assignment for today," Snape said, as he stalked over to his desk, sitting down behind it, and grading papers. Or at least, Harry thought, spending a moment studying him, he was _pretending_ to mark papers.

Harry looked up at the board, rather than the PotionMaster's lanky form sprawled half over the large wooden desk. Unfortunately, the entire board seemed to contain ingredients Harry'd never heard of. Looking up at everyone else, he realized everyone else had already gotten over to the cupboard, pulled their ingredients, and was starting the potion.

Harry hurried to get what he could see. Unfortunately, it looked like they were out of, well, whatever was bright orange and scaly. The ingredient names on the board were surprisingly unhelpful. Harry fought a frown off his face, knowing he had to go ask for more supplies.

Harry Potter approached Snape's desk with the feeling that he really ought to have his hand on his knife. Logically speaking, this was a silly, specious idea. Until, that is, Snape looked up at him. Harry Potter faced the inky black eyes that fumed pure hatred. "Excuse me? There's no - those orange scaly things, in the potions cupboard."

Snape brushed his hair behind his ear (it seemed to constantly fall into his face while he was grading, which said something about his observational skills**), and stood up, looming above Harry, who did his best to not step back - or draw his knife. "Mister Potter, there's a very good reason there are no TriPuffer Scales in the potions cupboard. You have them in your own potions kit. Only rare or restricted ingredients are kept in the cupboard."

"I don't have my potions kit, sir." Harry said.

Snape gave him a level gaze, "Then you will take a zero for the assignment. Perhaps in the future you will be better prepared."

"Yeah," Harry said.

Snape studied him, for a moment, then looked at the rest of the class, who hadn't stopped working. "Come along, Potter," Snape said, striding to one of the unused potions desks. "You may work off part of your detention now. Here are some shrivelfigs. You know how to remove their innards without making a hash of it?"

"No sir?" Harry said.

Snape pulled out some creepy green things, that he identified as flobberworms. "I'd like you to extract the mucus from these."

"No, sir?" Harry said, the look in his eye making Snape aware that Harry just didn't know how to do it.

Snape then asked him to extract beetle eyes, without breaking them.

"I don't know how to do that either, sir." Harry tried to make his eyes big, as he continued, "It's only the first day, sir."

Snape snapped, "Is there anything you are good at, you worthless idiot?"

Harry smirked, and then drew his "goblin-forged" knife.*** "I can do something you can't do," he said in a singsong voice.

Snape's mouth had opened, perhaps to say something about bladed weapons in a classroom. Harry didn't give him a chance. He pricked the tip of his index finger, hard enough that a big drop of blood welled up. Without looking up at Snape, Harry drew a circle in blood on the labbench, and then said, "Divisio omnes, divisio omnes." The blood circle split, into seven circles, stacked one on top of the next, and rising into the air. They spun in place.

Harry looked up with the tip of a grin forming on his face. Only to look into a visage of pure rage, Snape's eyes were beyond mad, they were incendiary devices themselves. His longfingered hand closed like a vise around Harry Potter's upper arm. Without saying a word Snape dragged Harry bodily out of the classroom, the doors slamming shut on their own.

*Why, _yes,_ Hufflepuff Harry _would_ give Death Eater Snape more respect than Blustering Potions Master Snape, the latter reminds him of Vernon too much.

** Yes, Harry's making assumptions based on what he sees. I dunno about you, but I find it funny.

***Knife's being referred to that way, even though Harry forged it himself. The techniques are distinctive, you see.

[a/n: To be continued from Snape's perspective. Snape's actually proud of himself for not fainting here. Can you figure out why? Leave a review!]


	33. Seven long strides

Snape took seven long strides down the hallway, before he abruptly pivoted, flinging harry around him in a half-circle. Snape stalked back to the potions classroom, and Harry had his mouth open to ask-

Snape slammed the doors open, and the full force of his anger kept them stuck there. _Harry thought that was so cool._ Inside, six Hufflepuffs were rubbing their left arms, where Harry was currently being held. Harry hoped Snape didn't bruise everyone.

"Ravenclaws. You need information about what Harry just did about as much as you need an Avada. Do not ask, do not take action, and you will be kindly allowed to attend classes at Hogwarts and learn in what relative peace and quiet exists." Snape's beady black eyes hunted down every single Ravenclaw before he said more.

"Hufflepuffs. You should know that the best way to be a friend to Mr. Potter is by not discussing what he's done to you." Snape snarled. He didn't meet everyone's eyes, this time.

Snape turned around, ready to stalk out the door and to... wherever Snape wanted to pickle Harry. Or torture, that was likely too.

In front of Snape, stood Neville Longbottom and Susan Bones. "May we accompany you, Professor?" Susan Bones stoutly said, in deferential tones. Her stance was square, as was Longbottom's. It looked like Snape would have to shove them _to the floor_ to pass.

Snape took this all in at a glance, and said simply, "Will you be quiet?"

Neville said, without a trace of a stammer, "Of course, sir."

The Hogwarts dungeons were convoluted enough that Harry had zero idea where they were, when they started to climb. He felt something like vague relief, as he could finally see the sun out a window.

They reached the first floor, passing through a large hall - Harry saw someone in Hufflepuff colors, and impulsively cried out, "Call Professor Sprout! Snape's got me!"

The Hufflepuff, who'd been mostly in front of them, turned and looked. Harry was aware (out of his peripheral vision) that Snape was giving her a death glare. That seemed to be enough for her, as she gave a simple nod and trotted (no running in the halls!) off to find her.

"Cockroach Cluster" Snape snarled at a gargoyle, and started up the spinning staircase before the gargoyle had really moved aside.

"He never uses the right passwords. And it's not for lack of memory either." the gargoyle said to nobody in particular.*

"Albus!" Severus Snape boomed, as he strode into the room, "Your precious Harry Potter just demonstrated a promising knack for blood magic."

The Headmaster of the school (wearing violet and hot pink robes that clashed horribly with themselves) looked up and then leaned back, "I'm certain you're exaggerating, Professor Snape. Where would Mister Potter have had an opportunity to learn magic that advanced. Let alone evince a desire to use it."

Snape's voice took on that low, hypnotic tone he used in the classroom, "In the past century, there's been only one known practitioner of blood magic."

The Headmaster nodded, "I doubt anyone is upset with her decision-making. She vanquished a tyrant and saved her only son."

Severus Snape snarled, "That is not what we're here to discuss!"

At this point, the room shook, three times, and then the door opened. Pomona Sprout was there, in her bulldog visage. Snape was threatening her charges, she could tell by the looks on their faces.

[a/n: Harry does know what his mum did for him. That was in the journal, if in a refined and "This is my experiment" way. Leave reviews!]

*Snape was given that password for /emergencies/. Snape feels that any time he breaks in to see the Headmaster, it's an emergency (as he'd otherwise procrastinate and avoid it).


	34. Br'er Rabbit

"Professor Sprout - did I, or did I not, ask permission to speak to your charge, Mister Harry Potter, after the Sorting?" Snape said, in a voice cold as ice, and quiet as falling snow.

"You did," Professor sprout said, responding to Snape's standing in a dark corner by striding over to the other (more brightly lit) corner. "I saw no reason to grant your request, as you could give no logical explanation."

Snape's face did something odd, and for Harry, who'd met a sizeable portion of London's underground, that was saying something. He started to clap, those long slow claps straight out of Citizen Kane. "Oh, very good, very good." He stopped clapping, standing stock still, and then continued his sarcasm giving way to venom. "Of course, now that I do have a perfectly logical explanation, the sensible procedure would be to break the children's wands."

Professor Sprout, who'd yet to hear what this was about, stiffened. "I beg your pardon?!" Snape noticed the Longbottom scion and the Bones chit firming their jaws. _There were worse things than loyal friends, generally speaking._ Unfortunately, in Snape's straight opinion, the Potter boy didn't seem the least bit cowed.

Albus Dumbledore cut in, "Surely you're exaggerating, Severus. I doubt any of these children meant to..."

With a look made out of battery acid, Snape snarled at Albus Dumbledore, "Blood magic, Headmaster. It _requires_ will and intent."

Professor Sprout stumbled, her body falling back against the wall. "... Blood magic?" She asked weakly. _Apparently there were some things the redoubtable Sprout was not prepared to defend._

"Seven of your students have sworn kinship with each other." Snape said. "The exact spell is yet unknown."

"... seven..." Sprout said, her hands trembling slightly.

"Well, now," Albus Dumbledore said with that twinkle in his eye that Harry instinctively hated. "Let's get to the bottom of this, shall we?"

Harry didn't need to be asked, he simply said, "Not brothers born, but brothers made, free in choice that will not fade."

Snape's face was thunderous, but that wasn't anything new. Harry smiled slightly, earnestly, and started to act. "I found this in my mum's journal. She said it would solidify friendships."

Snape's snort was as loud as a trumpet. Maybe he got that from such a large nose?

Albus Dumbledore smiled, a warm and friendly thing, and said, "You see, Professor, he didn't mean any harm by it. And I hardly see how the wording..."

"That is quite beside the point!" Snape snarled. "He has demonstrated the ability in Potions Class! And you know just as well as I do expulsion is the least of the acceptable punishments."

Harry let his green eyes shine, "If you're going to throw me out, sir, can you at least let my friends stay? I was the only one who knew..."

Snape saw the other two Hufflepuffs exchanging guilty, awed looks. _Lovely._

Albus said genially, "I think the best thing we can do is pretend this never happened."

"You can count on me to do that sir," Snape said, in dulcet tones that instantly raised Harry's hackles, "But I doubt you can count on the _rest of the class_."

Susan Bones spoke up, quietly, "Professor Snape, sir?"

His inkblack eyes turned onto the petite redhead.

"Do you think the rest of the class knew what he was doing?" she asked quietly.

Professor Sprout said, "You're good at misdirection, Professor Snape. Make it good."

Snape turned to the headmaster, and said, "Albus! Surely you cannot want me to save this worthless miscreant's miserable school career." _This potions master guy_ , Harry thought, _was turning out to be a more valuable vocabulary lesson than a dictionary._

Albus smiled, "Needs do what needs must." His eyes twinkled at Snape (Harry nearly hid under a chair, at the thought of Snape's eyes swallowing those twinkles like a black hole). "For the greater good."

Snape's hands curled into fists. "Wait," Neville hazarded, and Snape turned towards him.

Neville spoke quickly and cleanly, "I don't think Harry knew what he was on about either. Wizarding law isn't in the standard textbooks."

As they left, Professor Sprout managed, "... blood magic... really? In my house?"

It might have been Harry's imagination, but Snape seemed to be pounding the floor with his boots the whole way back to potions class.

[a/n: Dumbledore is a notoriously soft touch for Harry. Snape, well, is not. Professor Sprout hadn't thought... well, if she had, she'd have stopped it!

So tempted to throw some Gulllah in here. Leave a review!]


	35. It seemed like only yesterday

Severus Snape was finally done with classes, and dinner, and could retreat back to his rooms to sulk in peace and relative quiet. There were always potions brewing, after all. But potions were relaxing, unlike Unbreakable Vows and Incredibly Idiotic Children.

Snape slowly buried his head in his hands.

Albus hadn't listened. Had forgotten, more likely. Didn't want to hear it and was taking them all to hell in a handbasket, and bringing a bottle of wine for Ol' Nick, himself.

Professor Sprout was no help either, though at least he'd managed to startle, scare and horrify her with what her charge had done.

Hufflepuff Dark Lords were the WORST. Oh, no, not in magical power and daft ignorance of the value of human life - That was the Ravenclaws. A Hufflepuff Dark Lord was worse than all the others combined, because he inspired loyalty. DLV had never inspired that, it wasn't just his good friend Lucius who'd run for the hills, saying anything except, "I did what the Aurors saw."

It seemed like only yesterday, when Snape had come across Lily reading a book from the Restricted Section. "Blood Magic, Lily? I didn't know you cared."

"It's not for you. Just academic interest," she'd said, lying belly down on the grass in the sunshine. Then she'd kicked her lower legs up, and started waving them, and Snape had let the sight distract him.

It was a different sort of yesterday, the kind Snape didn't want to remember (as opposed to like to remember), when he'd knelt before the Headmaster of Hogwarts, pledging his protection to the Potter brat. He liked using those words, they were distancing. Yet another step to hide himself from the world, but he'd grown so used to them, that not hiding would be the strange thing.

Severus Snape had pledged an Unbreakable Vow to protect the next Dark Lord, a Blood Lord.

A hufflepuff.

Why had he not wound up in Slytherin? A thousand different accidents, failures waited for Potter there - Snape wouldn't have to engineer a thing!

But... but ... but... Snape hated dealing with Hufflepuffs, they were antithetical to his sense of caution.

If Albus Dumbledore was being taken in by Harry Potter, Blood Lord Hufflepuff, Snape would simply have to turn to alternate methods. In the privacy of his own rooms, Snape smiled, slow as molasses and just as deadly.

[a/n: See the Great Molasses Flood.

This story can go one of a few ways:

1) One more chapter, and we see what Snape's invoking

2) A balanced work, where Snape and Loyal Company are sneaking around under Albus' nose. In fact, Harry's team is sneaking too.

3) Cut them off at the knees. Snape's protection involves squibbifying Harry.

Review and tell me which one you'd like?]


	36. Percy, Davies, and Snape walk into a bar

Still smiling, Snape threw a glass against the wall just to hear the delicious sound of it shattering, and got to work. He rolled out his finest parchment (a gift from Lucius, ages past), and pulled up some pine green ink. He began to write.

This one had to flatter, be pompous and engage just a bit of curiosity.

 _Dear Gryffindor Prefect Percy Weasley,_

 _It has come to my untimely attention that there is a particular band of miscreants bent on skullduggery, and that they reside in this castle. As Prefect, it is your solemn duty (as it is mine) to curb such behavior. I shall convene a meeting this Friday, in the room with the bay window at the end of the left corridor on the fourth floor._

 _Severus Snape_

 _Head of House Slytherin_

Snape frowned, and thought some more, _This next one should be mysterious._

 _Dear Head Boy Roger Davies,_

 _Recently, it has come to my attention that a band of merry miscreants wishes to plunge this castle into madness and mayhem. I should think you would wish to be apprised of the situation, so that you might take appropriate action._ _I shall convene a meeting this Friday, in the room with the bay window at the end of the left corridor on the fourth floor._

 _Severus Snape_

 _Potions Master._

Snape crossed his arms, removed another idiotic paper and coated it completely in red ink. Then he stood, stretched his aching back, and began the long climb to the Owlry.

* * *

Percy looked pensive, thoughtful, but would probably attend. It was the best Snape could hope for, at any rate. He knew that the studious boy was the least biased of all the Weasleys, but Lucius had such a longstanding feud with Arthur that he counted himself lucky to get even a biased hearing.

Davies looked intrigued, at least he did before the Terrible Twins whisked the letter out of his grasp. Snape bit back a sigh, as he certainly didn't want the entire school knowing what he'd written. And any sign of weakness would be taken as an open invitation.

[a/n: Has anyone fallen in love with these characters? If I do go much further with this, it's going to stop being as funny and start being more serious. In no small part because HarryPotterWorld gets more established, and Harry breaking with conventions so much becomes... eh, stuff with Consequences!

I wouldn't have stopped the chapter here, but I need to come up with some mumbo-jumbo for Snape to say. this is an Important Meeting.

Reviews welcome, comments, anything folks!]


	37. Memoran-doom

Severus Snape sat at the round table in the room with the bay window. He deliberately sat with the window at his back, though it made his back itch. His instincts told him that there was someone behind him, ready to stab him in the back. He hated being vulnerable like that, but suppressed any vestige of displaying this irritation. Snape wore his good dress robes, still black, but no longer basic. Strands of midnight green and midnight purple wove themselves into complicated patterns on the black silk.

Percy Weasley bustled in, all officious and surprised/glad/happy to be asked. He was the type of student who was least trouble (despite not being talented), but he hadn't ever expected the Head of House Slytherin to call on him for anything. Unsurprisingly, he wasn't wearing dress robes. Also unsurprisingly, he'd managed to get his normal school robes scrupulously clean.

Roger Davies arrived, whisper quiet. Ravenclaws were often like that.

As Davies sat, Snape let the silence play out, for ten seconds longer than he ought. _No twins._ Snape thought, vaguely surprised.

"I have asked you here to invoke a long-lost binding." Snape started, glad as both Percy and Roger stiffened, going from quietly interested to sharply querulous. "There is a young Dark Lord at this school. As diverse members of the Houses of Hogwarts, I call upon thee to join in the Bright Compact."

"Your evidence, sir?" Percy asks, his normal bustle set aside. He looks almost fearful, which Snape finds a good sign.

"A blood pact, sealed with seven children." Snape gravely intoned.

"What does this Bright Compact entail?" Roger asked, and Snape suppressed a smile. When Ravenclaws got interested in the details, they were already hooked on the main course.

"We will work together to ensure that said Dark Lord does not rule." Snape said, "The situation is graver than you realize. A blood pact, of any nature, would normally land the cretin in Azkaban. That is being actively interfered with, by both the Headmaster of Hogwarts, and, I suspect, the head of the DMLE."

Percy looks personally offended by this, "That must not be allowed to stand. Sheltering Dark Lords is a heinous act."

Roger says, "What are your plans for dealing with the Dark Lord?"

Snape said, slowly, "Distractions, guidance, interference. If absolutely need be, raise an opponent."

Roger asks, "You mean a hero?"

Snape rolls his eyes, "No, I mean another Dark Lord. Allowing this Dark Lord to solidify power over England would be a disaster."

Percy asks, "If you raise another Dark Lord, do you think you could control him?"

"Obviously," Snape says, "I find poison optimal for most puffed-up poppinjays."

Roger asks, "Then why not use it on this one, and have done with it?"

 _Aside from my own death,_ Snape said, "This nightmare of a child has gotten the sole heir to a Noble House involved in his schemes."

Roger nods, "Alright. This needs doing."

Percy says, "I am at your service, so long as it involves preventing the rise of the next Dark Lord."

Leaning back into a moonlit shadow, Snape slowly smiles.

[a/n: The two children haven't realized Snape is talking about Harry Potter yet. Rumor mill about what Harry did in Snape's class hasn't gotten that far just yet.

Leave a review?]


	38. Our Task

"Our task," Severus Snape said clearly, "is to avoid Harry James Potter, the so-called Boy Who Lived, from controlling Britain."

Percy's eyes widened, and then he nodded. There was a reason Snape had chosen this particular Gryffindor, after all. He'd seen the prudence in keeping his options to himself.

"The Hufflepuff Potter?" Roger Davies said.

Before he could say anything more, Percy cut in, stiffly, "You don't waste time, do you?"

"No, I most certainly do not." Snape said. "At this point, Potter may not even consciously aspire to being a Dark Lord."

Roger Davies was nodding, asking, "How do we control an ambition that has yet to even form?"

Snape smiled, tapping his fingers together, "By distraction, where possible." Snape stood, leaning deceptively forward onto the table, and looking out the door, "Join us." His tone brooked no opposition.

And, truth be told, the Weasley Twins didn't want to. "You are two paired agents of chaos, are you not?" Snape said, his mouth curling into what on someone else might have been a smile, but on him was really a smirk.

"Oh, you flatter us!" One twin said.

"Really, I hadn't guessed you -" The other said,

"Thought so highly of us." the first said again.

Snape knew which was which, of course, but he declined to play into their "switching games."

Percy loudly thumped both hands over his eyes. "Eavesdropping, again?"

"Don't complain so, dear brother."

"You'll dislodge the stick planted up your-"

"Children." Snape cut in. "Are you hear to help, or do you really think your brother will prevent me from removing your memory of today?" Snape wouldn't remove any more than absolutely necessary. However, they'd both figured this out significantly earlier in the day. Snape had gambled that their involvement would pay dividends.

"Aid we'll offer," One said.

"In exchange," the other said.

"We need some advice." the first said again.

"If you rapscallions stopped goofing about and set to work in any number of fields, including Potions, you could have a fine career." Snape said drolly, in a voice as dry as the Sahara.

"Not advice on us in general!" the first said, scandalized.

"Particularly not when it's so obvious."

Snape knew a cue when he saw one, and he snorted out an eyeroll.

"Advice on our joke products!"

Snape considered, slowly, tapping his fingers in sequence on the table. Still leaning forward, he nodded briefly. "Advice will be given in private, and if you - any of you- so much as breathe a word of this conversation, you will wish yourselves dead by the time I'm done."

The twins were exchanging worried looks, wide-eyed.

Snape turned to the Weasleys, in general, and said, "And then I'll pass your twitching remains to your mother."

That put a hasty end to any treachery, or at least so Snape hoped.

"What, though, are we doing?" Roger asked.

"Enchantment, of the more mental sort." Snape said. "I cannot predict what will fascinate the young Potter, but we should find something... preferably academic, but if mischief and mayhem can wean him from the need to control..." Snape sat down, calmly, "We cannot miss this opportunity."

Roger, Percy and Snape began to discuss various ideas to capture the Potter's imagination. The twins, freed from the need to discuss, began to plot their own avenues of distraction.

 _Prank War Incoming!_

[a/n: Snape wasn't sure if the twins were going to waltz in at the beginning or not. Leave a review, if you please.

This is about where I confess that this story is going on hiatus. I have many stories that I'm writing right now, and I don't want to give any of them short shrift. This one is moving into a Cold War situation, and that's a complex story to write, even when Harry doesn't know what's going on. Perhaps particularly so.

I'm moved, today, to recommend three of my stories: Nobody Ever Asked My Birthday, The Floating World, and Safe Enough to Scream.

If your heart is set on me continuing this particular story NOW (despite the fact that it's likely to be less amusing in the future), please write a review. If I am inspired enough, I shall write more (and remove this note.)]


	39. Philo

Harry and the rest of the first year Hufflepuffs were in the Sett, the badger common room. Harry wasn't overly fond of the word Hufflepuff; he'd rather remind the rest of the school that his house had claws, even if they weren't the torturers that lions often were.

"The only truth is power." Harry Potter said softly. Around him, his yearmates stirred, some with eyes wide - Susan moved to object. Harry gently cut her off, "There are many ways to power. To a man with a hammer, everything looks like a nail."

Susan asked, "Are you the hammer, or the nail?"

Harry shook his head, "Neither. I stand here, in the House of Hard Work and Dedication, of camraderie and loyalty. Many will talk of the power of the shepard. Few think of the power of the sheep."

"The sheep?" Justin frowned, asking the question on everyone else's mind.

"The big man with a punch only thinks of his own power, doesn't he?" Harry said softly, "A dozen common men can slay a great wizard, can they not?"

Hannah nodded, slowly, "The sheep."

"Yes. We are nothing so long as we do not stand together. But give me a thousand sheep over ten Great Men." Harry said with a smile. "I have the feeling the world's in dire need of a few, well-organized, sheep."

Ernie asked, "And you to lead them?"

Harry shook his head, laughing, "Me? Lead? Oh, no, people only think sheep need leaders. Sheep think quite well for themselves. You just need to chop all the fences down, and let them roam free."

[a/n: Not sure if I'm keeping this chapter. It sprang into my head, and I had to write it down. Do you like it?

My prior note stands, this is still on hiatus.]


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